Country of Sweets
by Bong Bong Bong
Summary: [Post-Rebellion] [Ongoing] In Homura's world, it makes no difference where you are or where you'd like to be.
1. Prologue in Heaven

Bong. Bong. Bong.

From the lonely belltower reaching high towards the heavens, as the clock struck six, three chimes of the old bronze bell resounded throughout the empty green meadows and the closed-off city walls. The dew that gathered on the blades of leaves gradually trickled down into the soil. A gentle breeze wafted by in the busy streets, bringing to its people a scent of the violets and peppermints which grew in the city's parks in some long-forgotten time.

A warm blood-red sunset stretched as far as the eye could see. Certainly, the day was a quiet day. Madoka mused as such in her thought, as she walked in the long empty hallways of Mitakihara Middle School. The glass windows of the complex reflected the blinding light that came from every corner, perpetuating the warmth of the sunset everywhere, such that nary a dark shadow could appear. Indeed, it was a strange day, albeit not for any undesirable reasons.

In the silence, Madoka made her way towards the classroom alone. On some days, it all almost felt like a dream to her, like she was watching her life go on as a by-stander. She had a measure of peaceful constancy in her life, spending time with her Papa, Mama, and Tatsuya. It was a time that, she well knew, was all too limited. Nothing lasts forever. But in the meantime, they were a happy family. All was good and well on her side of the world. Yet despite that, a fine needle of self-doubt would sometimes lodge itself into her heart, and she couldn't help but wonder what she would do in the future. So at times, she would peer into the bottomless azure skies and settle into pensive reveries and cogitations.

She turned and observed the scenery beyond the glass panel wall. Misshapen light clouds rested in the sky, stock-still. Cradled by the wind, the trees would rustle and the grass would bend back ever so slightly. Far out in the distance, flocks of birds sang their meticulously toned cacophony and flew off westwards, chasing the high sun. Sunlight fell upon the water surface of the river, causing it to glitter with the slow streaming of water. Madoka noted that the clouds hardly moved and the sky was met with no change, staying just the same as it was in the morning save for the inevitable gradation of colour as dawn turned to dusk.

No doubt, she found that she had changed somewhat; but where, when, and how exactly – she could not put her finger on it. She found herself more introspective and tranquil than she would have thought probable a few years ago. While she was still rather timid all in all, she projected an air of tranquility and mellowness. Had she undergone a tremendously subtle change of character or maturing of the soul during the long flight back to Japan? As she walked, she thought of such a possibility and giggled at the silliness of it. She's just a strange little girl, and the day was just a strange quiet day. Perhaps, she could attribute her change, if only partially, to a newly-acquainted friend of hers.

"Ah, Akemi-san..."

Before she knew it, she had unwittingly reached her destination. She stood quite a ways behind Homura by the doorway, timidly glancing at the raven-haired girl still seated at her desk. Her soft voice trailed off echoingly into the empty hallways. Receiving no response, she silently sidled beside Homura and tried to call for her again.

"Akemi-san?"

Still, Homura did not reply and neither did she make any indication of her being aware of Madoka's presence. In her instinctive curiosity, Madoka bent forwards to sneak a peek at whatever Homura could be so absorbed in as to not notice her voice. It had been a few months since she had returned from America and transferred into her current school, but it all seemed to pass her by in the twinkling of an eye. Indeed, Madoka had, ever since she came back, thought that time was passing by oh-so-speedily that it felt so surreal. Spending time with her family, reuniting with old friends, and above all – what was it again? She failed to remember.

Then she saw.

In the golden afternoon, Homura lay soundly in her sleep, eyes firmly shut. She rested her upper body on the table with her chin stuck out, its jut supported on a crotch of hands, with a fountain pen slackly projecting from her right-hand fingers. And that was all she was doing: sleeping in a quiet place with the sunshine of the warm fine day soaking into her skin. Her constant, steady deep breathing attested to her deep slumber. Homura slept so serenely that it brought to Madoka's mind recollections of Chinese poetry where such nodding-offs exuded a spirit of refinement and even romance.

Breathing in and breathing out; seeing Homura like this – had Madoka ever? This was definitely a first. A gentle smile adorned Madoka's face as she beheld the sight of Homura's sleeping form. For all the time Madoka knew the strange girl, she would most commonly see her seated in quiet isolation with her hands folded and her brows furrowed, giving off the impression that she was in heavy contemplation over troubling issues, or looking into the distance, as if searching for something. And Madoka often wondered what she was going through her mind during those solemn periods of silence, but Homura would only say poetic things she could hardly comprehend. Whenever Madoka sought for Homura to share her thoughts and feelings, she would give a different strange answer each time. Just the other day, Homura said she was thinking of a 'shining castle in the sky'. So Madoka looked out of the window and told her that it must be really far away. Homura smiled.

But I digress. Madoka's expression of amazement, not unlike that of a poor child who happened upon a tin of cookies in some cold winter day, soon turned into one of fondness and adoration as she recalled their first meeting. On her first day attending classes, she walked up to her, introduced herself and guided her on a tour round the school. Queer for her to think this as it may be, she had a feeling that she knew the campus grounds like the back of her hand. When she first stepped foot in America, in a stranger land, an overwhelming sense of unfamiliarity and wonder overcame her. However, even after three long years away, Mitakihara was exactly as she expected it to be despite its many changes over the years. From whence did this strong intuitive recognition arise from? Maybe it was simply that she had a strong affinity with Mitakihara – a past life maybe, maybe?

* * *

' "How does it feel to be back after so long?"  
"… mm, everything feels so familiar and nostalgic, I guess. But, it's also kind of different somehow. It's a strange feeling…"  
"That comes as no surprise. It's been three years, after all." '

So they spoke, on the first day. Had they done this before? The informal and smooth exchange made it seem like they had repeated such a ritual time and time again.

To Madoka, despite having only been recently acquainted with Akemi Homura, it was like she was talking to an old, precious friend of hers from whom she had been separated for so very long. With every piece of dialogue they exchanged, Madoka felt as though she wanted, and had been kept long in wanting, to speak to her and tell her – something. What was it? She failed to remember. It was as though something within her was aching to escape through the glass ceiling of her heart from the confinement of undiluted, uncommunicated thought and ideals. What was it? But Akemi was there. And that gave her a conflicting sense of peace of mind as well. One triumphed over the other. But Homura was there. And to hear Homura speak so personally and tenderly to her, she felt at ease. She was worried. She did not know why Akemi had brought her out. But inwardly, she felt at ease. Then in silence, they carried on.

From behind, it looked like Akemi didn't have much else to say to Madoka as the two, who had never even as much as once met before, walked with synchronized footsteps. With dignified and straight posture, Akemi walked, loping in front of Madoka with her shoulders relaxed and her steps, unhurried in pace but still displaying an airs of resolution and confidence all the same.

Homura was barely an inch or two taller than her. That difference of height seemed so greatly accentuated, magnified to Madoka. That day, Akemi Homura's strong presence towered over her and muted out all else. She was only one step ahead, but that was enough to make her appear to be a looming shadowy figure in the distance. Her footsteps were neither strikingly light nor heavy. It betrayed a further cold nonchalance behind her already aloof persona, or was it simply telling of a carefree and down-to-earth spirit? There was so much Madoka wondered about of Akemi in their short walkabout, yet she never could come to any conclusions in the end.

Was this girl always walking with her, always aiding her, always one step ahead of her? It was so confusingly nostalgic.

But then Madoka remembered. Once upon a time, there too was a selfless girl with long black hair and a mysterious, brooding mien.

And there was another one, a fighter and a great friend.

And a brash, unruly but nonetheless good-natured person.

And someone with yellow hair.

And her Papa, a model househusband.

And her Mama, strong and worldly-wise, of whom she was full of admiration.

And of course, who could forget naughty little Tatsuya?

Everyone, together in Mitakihara.

Although that was only her first day in the school, her first time meeting Akemi, it was as if she had been in Mitakihara all her life. Then, her mind drifted to Homura. It was as if they had always been this way for ages – hundreds and hundreds of years. In the matter of a moment lost till the end of time…

"No… Come to think of it, it's more like nothing has changed," she softly spoke, partially in reply to Akemi's query and partially for Madoka herself to ruminate.

"In fact, it feels like the only thing that's changed…"

What happened after she left for America? From then on, everything happened so fast she had problems piecing together her memories. Yes, where did she go? Who did she meet? What did she do? She thought she knew, but she didn't. She couldn't remember.

Falling like curtains upon curtains of black, freezing fire, in an almost graceful decent – such were the visions of Homura's defeat that came to Madoka's memory. Doesn't she remember the thin trails of smoke emerging from the countless aftermaths of the terrible night? Buildings tumbled like building blocks, the earth's coating peeled layer by layer as the furious wind picked up objects of all shapes and sizes, ruins strewn all over the landscape, devastation after a hollow victory – Madoka thought she remembered these vivid details. Then, as if all the images of silhouettes idyllically gliding through the air were naught but a mirage, she awoke. She thought she could not remember more of that surreal dream.

She realized at that moment in time, that she knew just as little about Akemi Homura as she did of herself, and vice-versa. Like a mirror held before her, large as the sky is wide; and the image, reflected back to the other side.

"…is myself."

Akemi faltered. Akemi Homura turned an abrupt about-face. It was plain to see. She witnessed the unbridled dread and shock on Homura's face. Then everything went a little fuzzy.

Her vision purpled down into absolute darkness for the briefest of moments.

When she came round, she could feel a close and tight pressure in her chest. Warmth irradiated from behind her, where she could not see. But she could tell: Homura held her close in her arms, so close that she could feel warm breath against her right ear. Madoka remembered that.

Homura was perceivably unsettled. Her eyebrows slanted sharply downwards towards their sides, and her eyes were much narrowed. Her distress and worry was evident. The two of them, all alone in a desolate place – right then, the silence echoed volumes.

"Homura-chan?! Ne, what- "

Madoka, in her initial shock, attempted to struggle free. A few seconds later, she settled down. Homura moved her right hand to Madoka's shoulder.

In a shaky, reassuring tone, she answered Madoka.

"It's alright. You are exactly what you were always meant to be."

With that said, she tightened her grip on Madoka's shoulder. Madoka's eyes widened in surprise and she let out an involuntary gasp. She never expected that. It sounded to her as though those words of comfort were directed more towards the speaker herself than the intended addressee. Still, the words rang true in her heart. Perhaps that was what she really needed: self-acceptance and self-reassurance, Madoka thought. All things need assurance. She was always who she was meant to be.

She was Madoka.

She was her Papa's daughter.

She was Mama's daughter.

And she was cheeky little Tatsuya's favourite big sister.

She loved her family very much. She couldn't be anybody else. This is where she should be: her rightful place in the world. Even then…

Akemi Homura took a step back, still holding onto Madoka's shoulders, and then bowed her downwards till her dark locks fell from their place and veiled her face. Madoka couldn't see her expression. But, without a shadow of a doubt in her mind, Madoka saw her grin a grin so self-derisory like she was laughing at herself. Madoka could still remember.

"Kaname Madoka."

The ghost of her wispy cracked voice resonated in the unchanging silence.

The river flowed, and all the tiny speckles of light on the water blinked. One died out, and another one was born anew.

"Do you treasure this world? Do you consider stability and order more important than desire?"

Madoka gasped again. The burst of desperation in Akemi's voice and the sheer philosophicalness of the sudden questions had caught her off-guard.

"Well, I… Um…"

She was Madoka, she couldn't be anybody else.

"I – I do treasure it."

She knew that. She had her place in the world. She had a loving family and a hopeful future.

Akemi did not speak. Akemi Homura did not move. Homura waited.

"I guess I do think it's kind of bad to break rules because you feel like it."

Akemi's grip weakened and her arms fell lifelessly off Madoka's shoulders back to her sides. Akemi limply shifted her body back upright.

"I see."

All hint of weakness vanished from her eyes.

"Then, I suppose one day you too will be my enemy."

But her head was hung down, and she did not look at Madoka straight in the eye as she said that. In one gallant stroke, she unfurled the red ribbon from her hair, holding it in her hands.

Then, she gazed into Madoka's eyes and stepped closer towards Madoka.

"But I don't care. Because even then," she said as she gently tied Madoka's hair with the red ribbon, "I will continue to wish for a world where you will be happy."

The two yellow ribbons which adorned Madoka's hair, was replaced with similar, slightly worn, red ones.

"Homura-chan? Um…"

"They really do look better on you after all," she told Madoka wistfully. Tears formed in the corner of her eyes.

Madoka could only gape at her in silence.

One question badgered her, from the beginning to the end: Why?

* * *

Surely in the eyes of any normal human, such a bizarre first meeting must have been rather impressionable. Of course, Madoka was in no position to comment on the weirdness of Homura that day when following the day's events, she developed a burning desire to know and understand someone as strange as Akemi Homura.

Before she really got to come into direct contact and know her as a person, all she knew of Akemi Homura was from the wandering voices of her classmates she would unintentionally overhear. She heard it through the grapevine that Akemi Homura was devilishly smart: she would without fail end up as the top scorer every term, she made less mistakes in tests than you had fingers to count with, she was always willing to help those who approached her for help related to any matter be it of the realm of academia, family relations, and even spirituality. Some said she could turn water into wine and conjure up tables, chairs and cutlery of all sorts out of thin air. Preposterous as that may sound, there were even those who swore that one night she and her army of minions cleaved the moon in half.

From then on, Madoka made sure to take all gossip of Akemi with a pinch of salt. Nevertheless, there were a couple of acceptable and even believable stories of the great and venerable Akemi Homura.

No matter who she was with, she would only stay for as long as she was required. You could turn your head the other way then back again, only to find that she was gone – spirited away.

She always responded to those who talked to her kindly and she would entertain even the most aimless of claptrap, but hardly would she herself initiate the conversation.

Despite her popularity and prominence, she wasn't actually particularly close to anyone at all. She would keep them all at arm's length by never indulging in their company or disclosing her past and personal information of any kind. She walked alone, and she told the others she preferred it that way.

As Madoka eyed Homura in her sleep, she couldn't help but feel sympathetic for the girl who was always on her own. Yet whenever she brought up the matter, Homura would answer in all sincerity, "It's alright. I'm happy for you." Then she would smile at Madoka. So Madoka would always be captivated by the sudden gesture, and believe in her words whole-heartedly. Looking back at the memory, Madoka realized that Homura was very clever indeed.

In the golden light, the solemn, unutterably serene sleeping Homura looked like a work of art. The autumn leaves, arranged in two or three scarlet terraces among the pine trees grown in the gardens, had fallen like ancient dreams. The red and white camellias near the main entrance, dropping their petals, a red one then a white one, were finally left bare. The wintry sun along the ten-foot length of the southwards-facing classroom sets daily earlier than yesterday. Morning after morning, the flowers keep on falling…

With bated breath, Madoka reached out to nudge Homura awake. As reluctant as she was to wake her up, darkness was descending upon the land. If they stayed any longer, they would be locked in. She gently rocked Homura's right shoulder.

"Homura-chan. Homura-chan."

The once comfortably sleeping girl started to stir from her sleep. A twitching of the eyebrows was followed by a break in her rhythmic breathing. Slowly, Homura levered her sleepy eyes wide open. Her earrings twinkled and shone. Craning her neck upwards, she found herself face to face with Madoka. At such close proximity, Madoka detected the dark circles that had gathered below her eyes. They'd been getting more and more prominent as of late. Not that Madoka often got so physically close to Homura; that goes without saying. She was simply observant.

"Ma… doka?"  
"Yes. Ma – do – ka," she pronounced the hiragana of her first name very slowly and clearly, the way she teaches Tatsuya how to speak.

Homura muttered something under her breath and leaned her head back onto the table again, cheek resting on her folded hands flat on the table, facing away from Madoka.

"Was I sleeping?" still half-asleep, Homura asked Madoka.  
"Yes you were," she chirpily answered.

A few seconds passed before Homura asked again, "Then… were you watching me?"

Madoka bent her body forward over the table from where she was till her head was upside-down, and locked eyes with Homura.

"I still am." Madoka chuckled as she said that. Her head blocked the sunbeams and casted a shadow over Homura's face.

Inhaling deeply, Homura slowly shut and opened her eyes multiple times, looking away in apparent bashfulness. Madoka straightened herself, still giggling at Homura. Then, Homura raised her arms and propped up her head on the palm of her hands.

"You should get going soon. It's getting dark." Homura nonchalantly told Madoka as she blankly stared straight ahead.  
"Ah, Homura-chan," Madoka moved herself into Homura's line of sight, "you don't remember? We're all going to be meeting for dinner at my place today."

Madoka took Homura's hands in hers and gave her a right big smile.

"Come on, come on. I'm waiting for you."

Then she let go.

"Homura-chan?"

But Akemi held on tight onto her wrists. A strong, forceful grip: one that you would not expect from someone as lean as Akemi Homura. There were no signs of strain on Madoka's hands, nor any indication of effort on Akemi's part, but Madoka knew better than to think that she could easily pry herself from Homura's grasp.

"I've…"

Homura lowered her gaze. She furtively grinned.

"…I've got you."

Madoka's heart thumped and her blood ran cold. She flinched. Akemi's voice possessed unnerving gravity.

She couldn't stop herself from staring deep into Akemi's eyes. They were mystifyingly open and dark, darker than the blackest night and the raven's feathers, because therein lurked a palpable – sense of astute perception that made one feel as though it could penetrate whichever body, mind, and soul it pleased. Akemi had steady eyes.

Would Akemi have let her go if she screamed, '_Let go!_'? Maybe Homura would have.

But Madoka didn't want to turn her away.

In kind, Madoka with her feeble hold clenched onto Akemi's wrists.

"We've got each other."

Akemi Homura tittered, and whispered, "So it seems."

She let go, got up onto her feet, grabbed her bag, and with a flick of her long shining hair, she strode out of the classroom.

"Aren't you coming?"  
"A-ah, wait for me!" she tottered hurriedly in chase of Homura.

After Madoka and Homura had taken their departure, it became as quiet as a night when winter's icy wind suddenly drops and the snow falls soundlessly. Somewhere far away, in the autumn fields, when the heedless wind blows by over the pure-white dew; how the myriad unstrung gems are scattered everywhere around.

And so, they made their way back home.

**A/N: Updated.**


	2. I: Here Comes The Sun

'If the world is a dream of the sleeper,  
where is reality?  
Let him close his eyes and find reality there.'

**CHAPTER I  
**

**HERE COMES THE SUN  
**

* * *

Twilight arrived.

The sound of clacking heels passing in front of the house could be distinctly heard from the kitchen and the sound of a nursery rhyme accompanied by Chinese flutes, playing in random snatches by someone in the estate on the next street, fell lullingly in broken drifts upon Kyoko's sleepy ears.

**'_little boy blue'_**

Sakura Kyoko lazed around in the Kaname's kitchen, lying belly up on a small brown strip of carpet. She lay spread-eagled, only staring up at the ceiling. It was the same red mahogany colour as the floor beneath her.

**'_come blow your horn'_**

Mami and Sayaka left a while ago to fetch Madoka. She was left without anything much to do.

**'_the sheep's in the meadow'_**

'It's probably still hazy outside,' Kyoko speculated.

Kyoko wasn't in the best of moods. Normally, given her rambunctious character, she would be up and running, finding something to do or chew. But instead, on that day, she skipped lunch, as unlikely as such a possibility was. Sayaka even let out a "Huh?!" in her profound quizzicality and perhaps, dare she admit, worry.

Needless to say, Kyoko wasn't very pleased to hear that, but while that did serve to sour her mood it wasn't what was on her mind.

**'_the cow's in the corn'_**

She rolled her body around to face the window. Was it hazy outside?

She couldn't really tell. She couldn't; not at all. Her eyes were obscured by clouds. Gilded clouds of heaven descended low, flickering between the lines of trees waving in the wind.

**'_where is the boy who looks after the sheep?'_**

Windows lined the walls in the Kaname's kitchen; well to be precise, the walls were effectively glass panel windows. Kyoko could see, and could almost feel the balmy breezes smother the green-circled land beyond the barrier. Barely an inch of glass stood between her and the outside world. But that small distance was such that it looked to be very faraway, very far removed from the scene within. The longer she stared outside, the more she thought she was staring at an eternal dreamscape. That further exacerbated her uneasy restlessness, but she couldn't seem to get to doing something – anything.

Kyoko disliked the wall. The windows, as wide as they were – no, rather precisely because they were so – seemed to her so unnoticeable. The thin barrier separating the Kaname's kitchen and by extension dear Kyoko from the outside world, might as well not have been there at all, in Kyoko's view.

Friedrich Nietzsche wrote in his book: _Jenseits von Gut und Böse_,  
_'And when you gaze long into an abyss the abyss also gazes into you.'_

Kyoko had become more well-read as of late. She didn't actually like her old lifestyle; if she had a choice, she would rather have taken to more wholesome ventures – but that is a tale for another time.

She was reminded of the above quote: the windows were inconspicuous, but they still had affected the psyche with or without one noticing. On some days, the moonbeams streaming in would make her feel as though she were the subject of Du Fu's Moonlit Night. And on others, one would be left on tenterhooks, waiting to see if some preternatural monstrosity would suddenly leap out from the thin, narrow swathes of greenery in the yard, or worse, the swirling depth of night-time shadows.

But today, she wondered: what if nothing **outside** actually exists?

The clouds so bright, the birds making their flight – she scanned the neighbourhood for any people walking by, but she hadn't seen anyone pass by for the past two hours. For all she knew, she could be dreaming everything up. It scared her to think that all her life, all her friends, everything was just a dream. Thinking that, she felt like a lonely castaway stranded in the middle of the ocean.

The fleeting emotion subsided in an instant, and Kyoko scoffed at herself. How long had it been since she lived the life of a drifter: creeping along the dark winter streets without a home, without direction – living dully day by day? Without a place to call home and no sense of direction, she hopped from place to place, relying on her wits and trickery to fill her stomach every day. It would only be strange if she did not think that her current situation was like a dream-come-true.

What was a dream? What was not? Would she lose everything again, in the twinkling of an eye? She would, she most definitely would. Would her breath so shallow and slow, stop without warning? It was only a matter of time. Awakening followed dreaming. Ending followed beginning. A universal truth in dreams and reality, if there was one: all things must pass.

But that was a problem for the future, for today was a day of joy and fun. She turned away and stared at the ceiling once more.

**'_he's under the haystack'_**

Moving psychedelic patterns and vibrant fractals emerged from the nostalgic red she stared at, staining the pure surface in swirls and blotches of blue and green. They were things she couldn't close her eyes to. After all, it was all in her mind. Outside, the trees and the buildings and the tall skyscrapers vividly detailed the landscape. But closer to her, in her heart, were fanciful vague dreams: inimitable dreams that were clearer than the most undeniable of realities.

The ethereal tones of the flute floated off on a pillow of winds, climbing higher on wings of fire

_**'fast asleep.'**_

Kyoko slipped out of consciousness, still dreaming of a new day in the example of a lofty promised land, where no aging, no illness, no death and no sorrow afflicts its denizens who dwell within beautiful mansions in gardens of everlasting bliss. They rest in groves of vast cool shade and reclined on thrones of dignity raised high. They live with the righteous among their fathers, their spouses, and their offspring. Therein flow rivers of milk, whose taste never changes, and rivers of wine delicious to those who drink it, and rivers of pure honey, and rivers of incorruptible spring water. Therein they have all for which they ask. And such is their eternal adobe. Such is their place of rest.

**'_will you wake him?'_**

Sweet peace then whispered softly, rocked the heart on childhood's shores, and on the eyelids, tired and weary, closed daylight's golden doors. Sunlight fell, redder than Kyoko's hair.

**'_oh no, not I.'_**

The dawn of sunset extended far and wide.

**'_For if I do, he surely will cry.'_**

* * *

The night had just begun. Darkness reigned, blurring Kyoko's vision of everything further than an arm's length.

Kyoko awoke soundlessly, still facing the now-darkened ceiling. But in the fog of darkness, she herself couldn't tell where she was facing anymore.

It was raining outside, she could hear it rain. That was all. She couldn't see the raindrops trickling down the surface of the windows. She imagined, the tintinnabular surface of the rain sleek as a car shooting past hammering at the windows.

A muffled _'dong, dong, dong'_ was all Kyoko could hear.

There was no sign of the rain stopping any time soon. The sky, if that was what Kyoko was looking at, was already a sea of uninterrupted black straight out to the horizon. Light did not break through the heavy dome of clouds.

"So cold..."

A great clap of thunder echoed through the sky. But there was no lightning.

Kyoko lay huddled on the soft carpet. She hugged her knees close to herself, assuming a foetal position, and shuddered.

Didn't she remember? After her house burned down – how it burned down to the very last timbers – she did the exact same thing. Back then, lying down under a sheltered storefront on black velvet carpet just inches away from the pouring rain, she drew out a matchstick from her pocket. Recalling the story of the Little Match Girl her father used to tell her as a bedtime story, she struck the match. How it blazed; how it burnt! It was a warm, bright flame, like a candle, as she held her hands over it: it was a wonderful light. Would she see the soul of her father in heaven who would give her his forgiveness and take her away into the greater yonder? If she did, she would have grovelled at his feet in penance. If she did, she would jump into his arms, not saying a single word. If only she did…

Kyoko got up and groped around in virtual blindness. Even with her night vision, she only managed to switch on the purple lamplight that stood at the middle of the kitchen table with the help of sheer luck.

Visibility conditions improved. The light was warm and bright, but cold to the touch.

She looked outside the window, but couldn't venture the slightest guess on how long she had slept. Then, to the digital clock-display, she found her way. She napped for roughly two hours.

Then Kyoko heard a low rumbling, accompanied by a fire in her belly. She repelled the gloom in her heart and mustered the willpower to scavenge for something to eat; no good came from recalling the past.

So Kyoko roamed in search of food. In hindsight, it would have been wiser for her to ignore her lack of appetite in the afternoon and simply have eaten lunch. She moaned, of exasperation, in the dark. Where was she going to find food? Certainly she was not to be filching from the Kaname's cabinets, though if she had to she probably would – plus the Kanames probably wouldn't mind too much.

She then recalled that there were sakura-mochi, and other assorted teatime confectionaries, Mami had left in the fridge in the early afternoon. Most likely it was still there, for as she observed, Mami hadn't so much as gone near the fridge after placing her foodstuffs in there. So round to the fridge she went.

The rice-cakes were arranged, just as Kyoko saw during the evening, in cascading order resembling an ancient Mayan pyramid and everything down to the colour of the sakura-leaves pasted on the bottom of each rice-cake was just as she remembered.

There was English pudding by the side, small slices of chocolate cake piled atop one another on a small plate at the very back, and some small tarts and pastries.

When she was about to take out a single tart from the fridge, she noticed a card placed smack at the front of the sakura-mochi tower: _Do Not Touch_.

Now, Kyoko had promised Sayaka that she would abandon her earlier life of time-wasting and thievery and lead a noble upright life as a good law-abiding citizen; it was a commitment she would gladly follow any time of day, a principle well-established in her ethos.

With a tentative gliding of her hand, she raked at the pink leaves adhering to the bottom of the rice-cakes. Her fingers, having touched the outer part of the sakura-mochi, became sticky.

And then she pulled her hand close to her face and sniffed away at the pinkish residue left on her fingers. She could recognise the smell of well-boiled rice, rice cooked and simmered to a fine degree. Admirable rice it was. She looked around, wondering to herself: Shall I eat, shall I not? Her face twisted in different angles she pondered on the critical decision.

Fortunately, or unfortunately for her, there was nobody about. Sayaka and Mami have yet to return. Madoka's baby brother and her father were likely still fast asleep in the master bedroom on the second floor. If she was to eat the forbidden treasure, that was the moment: a blessed window of opportunity had presented itself to her.

At that point, still tempted by her unabating hunger as she hungrily sniffed her fingers of its sticky deposit, Kyoko perceived a truth: golden opportunities incline people to venture to do even that which they do not want to.

Now Kyoko didn't particularly want to eat the cakes. In fact, the more she examined the beautiful work, courtesy of Mami, the more nervous she became and the more disinclined she was to stuffing her mouth to the brim with those succulent, tasteful, appetising, sumptuous rice-cakes.

'I was only going to eat an egg tart or two… Damn it, Mami; it's your entire fault for tempting me like this!'

Oh, if only Madoka would swing open the front door and shout out, "I'm home!" as she habitually did even if no one were around. Oh how relieving, but admittedly disappointing, it would be if Sayaka arrived at the scene of the to-be-crime and caught her red-handed.

But no one came. So in those suspenseful short seconds, Kyoko decided that it was not sensible of her to vacillate any longer over the fate of mere sakura-mochi; she could rearrange them such that no one would notice they were ever gone. Besides, Mami was to blame for manipulating her psychology in such an artful manner. How sinful Mami was! Still no one came.

She felt as though a fire was burning in the pits of her soul, with voices whispering right into her ear, "Eat, quickly! Quickly, eat!"

She slowly reached her right hand into the cool fridge. Then she shot it backwards as if she had touched boiling hot water.

She prayed to God that someone would appear and vindicate her of her heavy responsibility. She didn't want to do it, but she had to. With great power, comes great responsibility.

But no soul came. She let out a sigh of resignation; her face was plastered on with a bright smile of self-satisfaction, eyes twinkling in the dark room.

"Oh well. Guess I have to eat."

With great dexterity, comparable to that of a cat lunging at its unsuspecting prey, she retrieved by the tips of her teeth a rice-cake from the bottom layer and rearranged the tower with chopsticks such that it seemed as though it was never a cake short.

Letting out a snigger, she spoke softly, "Itadakimasu!"

Oh Kyoko.

The card only instructed: _Do Not Touch!_ So technically speaking, she didn't actually touch anything if one were to discount her previous brushing of the fingers, which was so minor an incident that it hardly mattered. How proud Kyoko felt of herself at being able to outsmart Mami's mind game; she finally found a legitimate excuse for scoffing up the sakura-mochi that wouldn't question her morality in any way whatsoever; she thought herself to be oh-so-witty and clever, and she was even about to relish in the forbidden fruits of her labour.

She crammed half of the large cake into her mouth and bit about an inch deep into the centre.

"Mmm!" she said.

In that one gasped sound, three separate "Mmm's" were mingled: her deep "Mmm!" of pleasant delight which greatly resembled the purring of a cat, her averagely-pitched "Mmm!" of gratified relief at finally having done the deed, and –

Oh Kyoko…her squealed "Mmm!" of raw bloodcurdling shock. Now, most things she bit that hard – and she bit hard indeed, Sayaka could testify to that – would come clean off in her mouth.

But surprise, surprise – when she tried to reopen her jaw, she found that it would not budge. Clearly, she had bit off more than she could chew.

"Mmm! Mm! Mm! Mm-mm, mmm! Mm…mm!" she shrieked

This time, there was only one singular "mmm" of pure panic.

She tried once more to bite her way free, but alas she was stuck – subjected to the ramifications of having succumbed to her devilish desires. Was this her bad karma for not heeding the great wisdom of Mami-senpai? Too late did she realise that the sakura-mochi was a wolf in sheep's clothing; it was the tempting snake in the allegory of the forbidden fruit in the Garden of Eden, and Kyoko had just bitten into the Forbidden Fruit and discovered her nakedness! When a man who has fallen into quicksand struggles to escape, he finds himself sinking in ever deeper the more he frantically thrashes about trying to extract himself. Just so, the harder poor Kyoko clamped down my jaws, the more her mouth grew heavy and her teeth immobilised. She could feel an indistinct resistance to her teeth, but nothing more. She could neither swallow it, nor spit it out. One could say, she landed herself in a sticky situation.

But despite making no progress in her frantic misguided struggle, her granitic obstinacy would not be softened even if the akuma-mochi niggled away at the igneous rock of her nature for a hundred thousand years. She would fight to the bitter end!

And so, in the dim purple light, she valiantly fought in a classic case of predator turned prey.

The painful process of mastication could go on and on eternally like a division of four by three. In the midst of all the anguish, she arrived at her second truth: that people can very instinctively tell what is good for them, apparently by either a sense of inherent morality or intuition. Of course, she did not phrase it in such a way in her thought.

"Crap! Bloody hell! I knew I shouldn't have eaten the damned thing!" was probably a lot closer to the actual train of thought going on in her mind at the time.

So she discovered two great truths; not that they pleased her in the least, for she remained unhappy by reason of the adherent rice-cake. Her teeth had become sucked into its fully expanded body, and were becoming so excruciating painful that tears began to stream down from her dazed eyes. Unless she could swallow it down and make a quick getaway, Mami and the others would surely be on to her.

From afar, she could hear faint footsteps in the middle of the pouring rain. Was it Mami? Was it Sayaka? Was it Madoka? Was it just a passer-by? Suspense beat her heart like a drum.

In the throes of agony, she lashed her limbs about wildly, but to no effect. She cocked her head up high, stood pigeon-toed, and groaned as she desperately shifted her jaws and prodded her tongue at the blob in her mouth, but that did not help either. Then the next moment, she would bend forwards and rush about in random directions like a raging bull before standing upright and, in a move of desperation, slapping her face umpteen times.

"Wait, what exactly am I doing?" so she thought her first rational and restrained thought of the night.

So at long last, it dawned on her that the best thing to do was to force the rice-cake down by using her hands. Never had it crossed her mind to remove the accursed thing and brush off the residue afterwards, which would have been by far easier, considering how the thing was only halfway in her mouth. If Kyoko had kept her wits about her, she would most definitely have come to such a solution very early on. She had no one else to blame but herself for dropping her guard and running around like a headless chicken.

First, she raised her right hand and stroked it round her mouth. She was already finding it physically demanding to even part her lips for her incisors were glued on by the akuma-mochi. Naturally, the mere stroking brought her no relief whatsoever. Next, she used her left hand to pry open her mouth with all her strength, and during that one fleeting moment where her lips had parted wide enough, she barely managed to shove two fingers of her right hand in. Then, with the fingers she began to vigorously scrape quick circles in her mouth. The ineffectual passes failed to exorcise the akuma of the sakura-mochi, and she even felt that her fingers were about to succumb to the sticky evil in her mouth.

Realising that it was essential to proceed with patience, she scraped alternatively with her fingers, from the front of her teeth to the back, till her fingers were sodding wet with salivary fluids.

Clop. Clop. Sayaka's very distinct horse-like footsteps could be heard.

Growing impatient, she then used the fingers inside her mouth to prise her mouth wide open.

She finally made some progress. Trembling with warriors' excitement, she packed her entire fist in and twisted all five fingers in frenzied determination to rid herself of the akuma. Since the movements of her head, arm, hand, and torso were so vigorous – having resumed her subconscious acts of wildly thrashing about – she was in danger of losing her balance and falling down. She began to tittup here and there, until she ended up prancing madly all over the kitchen.

She fought for dear pride, which was very ironic when considering the state of shame she was reducing herself to, against the akuma-mochi when she heard footsteps coming from just outside the door. Someone seemed to be approaching. Thinking it would be fatal to be caught in her predicament, she redoubled her efforts and was positively running around the kitchen. Once again, a wiser choice would have been to scamper off to the washroom and remove the rice-cake with toothbrush and floss instead of stubbornly trying to force the rice-cake down her gullet, but…

The footsteps came closer and closer.

Alas, perhaps just all too soon, fear fell upon dear Kyoko.

In the end she was discovered.

"Mm, we're finally back. The weather was pretty bad."  
"It definitely was."  
"I'm home."

The voices streamed in one after another as four sets of footsteps echoed in the spacious hallways.

'Shit.'

She tried to pull her hand out at the last-minute, but it was too late for her. Long fibrous strands of rice-cake stretched out as she tried to withdraw her hand, and they yanked hard at Kyoko's pained teeth. She shoved her whole fist back in.

"Eh, it's so dark in here."  
"Right, I'll go switch the lights on."  
"Kyoko!" she hollered from the living room, "Wake up already!"

Having stopped her cavorting in the kitchen and taken to crouching unseen in a corner, Kyoko picked up on Sayaka's offensive remark and was mildly annoyed at the girl.

'What kind of person does she think I am?' she thought to herself in complaint.

Well, whatever 'good' image Sayaka had of Kyoko, it would be all but deconstructed, doubted, and discarded when the lights turned on.

"Kyoko, is that you? Say something!"

Sayaka's blue bob was barely visible in the now pitch-black kitchen, illuminated by small flashes of light piercing through the canopy of clouds.

"Ah… I can't seem to find the panel."  
"It's at the other end of the hall, I think."  
"Oi! Kyoko? Kyoko ~"  
"I found it!"

Light flooded in.

"Eh?"

Sayaka set her eyes on a crouching Kyoko: her hair was badly dishevelled, her right fist was in her mouth with half a mochi dangling off her lips, and saliva dribbled down her forearm.

Kyoko's wide eyes, holding none of the steely sharpness they normally had, met Sayaka's. She shot Sayaka an intense stare of hostility, all but saying "What you looking at?"

"Kyo…ko?"

Sayaka was merely a foot away to Kyoko's right and her expression was an amazingly refreshing deadpan. It was a deadpan like no other, the ultimate declaration of disinterest and disbelief. Her blank gaze betrayed no clear emotion, but that only served to make it seem all the more despising. For a while, she stood there staring down at Kyoko's face as if that face of hers had dramatically deformed since last she saw her.

"What's in your mouth?" Miki Sayaka narrowed her eyes and patronisingly hunched over.

'Tch,' Kyoko mentally clicked her tongue in her irritation.

"Es ist stecken," she mumbled out.  
"What~ did~ you~ say?" Sayaka didn't mask her condescension.  
"Sieh."

At that, Kyoko opened her mouth as large as she could. Sayaka brought her face up quite close to Kyoko's and examined the mess she had gotten herself into.

"Eh~ did you bite off more than you could chew, Kyo~ko?" Sayaka quipped, sounding very smug and pleased.  
"Verdammt, hilf mir!" Kyoko crudely cried for help through the mochi her mouth, looking absolutely miffed.  
"I got it, I got it," Sayaka stopped teasing Kyoko, "Come on, let's get to the bathroom before the others get here."

Face flushing in great embarrassment, Kyoko wondered if she would ever get to hear the end of it from Sayaka once they returned. Kyoko thus followed in Sayaka's wake, the remora to her shark.

* * *

_"_Ah, where's Sayaka-chan and Kyoko-chan?" Madoka, who took her seat at the centre of the table facing the free-standing kitchen counter, asked no one in particular.

"I think I saw them head for the bathroom just now." Mami remarked. She was the only one among the five who was not wearing the school uniform. She wore a plaid cardigan and a brown dress with a floral-patterned lace collar.

"Eh? Together?"  
"_Together_." A scandal was brewing.  
"Hmm. I hope they're alright in there," Madoka looked genuinely concerned for them and suggested, "Do you think we should see if they're fine?"  
"Well, I'll go and check up on them then." Mami actively took up the role of the reliable senpai and offered.  
"Thanks, Mami-san."

Mami walked off in search of the red-and-blue duo.

"Then in the meantime, I guess I'll start brewing the tea and preparing dinner."

Madoka also left her seat. Since the traffic light trio had left for the washroom, only Madoka and Homura occupied the kitchen.

"Do you want anything in particular, Homura-chan?" she asked with her back turned to Homura, as she took down her Papa's light blue apron that sat folded on a kitchen shelf with boxes of spices and dry seasonings.

"Water's fine." Homura, who hadn't spoken to Madoka for the entire length of the journey back, answered her in a subdued voice. She had her hands laxly clenched, fingers intertwined except for her thumbs which touched at their fingertips. With her shoulders slumped, her chin rested on the base of thumbs as her hands tilted slightly forward and obscured view of her mouth. If there was anything Madoka could rely on to deduce Homura's state of mind, it was her eyes. But apart from being relaxed and heavily-lidded, her left eye resembling the Eye of Horus and her right one paused in secret stillness, Homura's eyes showed only gentleness and weariness. They did not at all appear to be contrived; Homura was very natural and honest. Yet, Madoka could not find any definite term to describe the vibes Homura emanated and neither could she think of why Homura was feeling the way she was.

At a glance, it was as though Homura was not watching. But Homura could almost always tell who and what was where, despite not seeming to have looked at all. Madoka recalled that Homura would not speak at too quickly a pace or too slow – which she would use to employ dramatic effect; when she talked, she could slowly shift her eyeballs to a person, then look him a look as though he was completely seen through, and he would strongly wish to avert his eyes from Homura's disturbingly knowing gaze.

"Just water?" Madoka finished tying the ends of the oversized apron behind her back and turned to face Homura again.

"For now." Homura darted her right eye in Madoka's general direction. The other eye remained fixed in place.

"Okay then," the sound of water pouring was all that could be heard.

It had stopped raining. The clouds cleared up to reveal the night sky.

"Here you go," Madoka walked behind Homura and placed the dark mug down on the brown-oak table. Then she rested her hands on Homura's shoulders.

"There are some fruits, if you'd like." She placed a white plate of cold fruit in the middle of the table. It was an assortment of raspberries, apples, small melons, slices of pumpkin, and a hunk of cheese.

Homura snaked one of her hands out of formation and lightly patted Madoka's right hand.

"Thank you."

Then she let go and rested her hand on the table. She did not touch the fruits.

* * *

"So back to what I was saying, when the lights turned on, I saw Kyoko squatting in a corner of the kitchen sucking her fist."  
"Oi! Cut it out!"  
"Then she opened her mouth and I found out that she actually ate those sticky rice-cakes Mami brought."  
"Stop it! Stop already!"  
"You know what she did? I bet she just chomped on the whole thing right out from the fridge and didn't even think of preparing it. Her teeth were all stuck onto the mochi so she couldn't move her mouth at all!"  
"Is that indeed so?" said Mami as though she had just learnt a fact of imponderable gravity. But deep behind the sober skin of her face, she was laughing at the folly of her friend.

Mami and Sayaka's relentless verbal attacks sent Kyoko into a paroxysm of shame.

"When we went to the bathroom, she kept on whining 'Ah, ah, Sayaka, Sayaka' when I was brushing her teeth."  
"And she moaned so loudly I could hear her even from the hallway." Mami couldn't help herself from revealing more of Kyoko's humiliating record.  
"Then, then," Sayaka paused to laugh, "I got fed up with all that. I mean, after all that brushing and flossing I only managed to remove the cake on the front of her teeth."  
"After that, I went in and suggested that they used boiling water to soften the mochi."  
"Ah! That's right! When Kyoko heard that, she shouted 'No, no, Sayaka, no~'" Sayaka gave her best impression of a damsel in distress, "Then I told her, it's 'all for your own good'. 'Be quiet and no one gets hurt'."  
"No, no, you specifically said 'Kyo-tan~ be a good girl and I'll give you some sweets later on, okay~'"  
"Oh yeah! After that, she just shut up and looked at me with those puppy-dog eyes!"

Sayaka chortled; she positively split her sides when she recalled Kyoko moaning like an invalid. She seemed to have found Kyoko's misadventures the funniest, but by general agreement the whole party was having a good old laugh.

Madoka was giggling as she prepared the dishes, though she did feel guilty for laughing at Kyoko's misfortune. But it wasn't her fault. Even Kyoko found the episode to be very humorous; she would discover that after all the shame and humiliation left her mind.

Mami let out an unrestrained 'Ohoho' from time to time. The way she intentionally laughed like an arrogant baroness of the late Meiji period grated at Kyoko's deteriorating ego.

When the laughter began to die down, she took a deep breath and sailed on, "At first I just dipped the brush into the water and tried to do it like this."

Sayaka grabbed a butter biscuit from the table and re-enacted the bathroom scene dipped it into her cup of red tea several times before biting the soaked portion off.

"But it was too slow so I just poured the water into her mouth and made her gargle."  
"It was really hot, you know!?"  
"It must have been awful," said Madoka with a sort of shrinking bow.

Kyoko, brimming with indignation and a dire lack of self-confidence, wouldn't take the joshing lying down.

"Hey, I did it really slowly, okay." Still, Sayaka swept her feelings aside.  
"That didn't do anything to cool it down!"  
"But then if it cooled, it wouldn't work anymore!"

They were off on one of their crazy arguments again. For a time Mami just sat there, listening with amusement to their increasingly bitter bickering, but she eventually opened her mouth.

"The sakura-mochi was made to be dipped in hot water." Mami stated in an informative manner.  
"You were plain greedy; you just had to eat the sakura-mochi." As if to drive home her argument, Sayaka took a rice-cake and sloshed it around in her tea.

"That's not an excuse to scald my tongue."  
"So I shouldn't have helped you?" Sayaka skilfully inserted her own interpretation of Kyoko's words and managed to divert the topic of conversation away from the scalding of Kyoko's tongue.

"That's not what I'm saying! Mou, Sayaka!"

However, great strategist Sayaka failed to account for the possibility of Kyoko attacking her directly in a petty act of desperation.

"Ah! Kyoko! Stop that!"  
Then Kyoko provided her tongue-in-cheek reply, "What's the matter? I thought you weren't hungry since you were so busy yapping away."  
"Sayaka-chan! Kyoko-chan! You're going to wake Tatsuya up."  
"Aha, sorry Madoka – oi! Kyoko, stop taking food off my plate!" snapped Sayaka.  
"Ain't it fine? You should be going on a diet anyways. I'm doing you a service here, you know. Be thankful."

Kyoko smirked. After a hard-fought battle, she managed to salvage what has left of her pride and even took a swipe at Sayaka while she was at it.

"Huh!? Are you implying something?"  
"You're heavy." Kyoko demolished Sayaka in one curt breath.  
"What do you mean by heavy?"  
"Heavy is heavy. Like you."  
"Why d'you say I'm heavy?"  
"Because you look that way to me."

With every appearance of meaning what she said, Kyoko was about to elaborate, when she was cut off by a clattering of cutlery followed by a loud shout of 'Dinner's ready.'

"Oho! I can already smell the food from here! Mami's always a good cook!"

Nothing, not even displeasure, showed on Sayaka's face for she was seriously contemplating Kyoko's words. Her very unnatural straightness of posture and vigorous swaying of feet gave the lie to her appearance of composure. Had she really grown fatter? Kyoko may have said what she said in jest, but Kyoko was always frank and blunt when it came to such affairs so Sayaka had a hard time deciding if Kyoko's words had a smidgen of truth to them. She stopped fitting into some of her clothes a while ago, and her weight was slowly increasing.

"Madoka helped out too. We're having spaghetti aglio olio e pepperoncini tonight."  
"No side dishes?"  
"There're snacks and there's cake to be served afterwards."  
"Cake! I LOVE CAKE!" So enthralled was she that she let out an English phrase of exclamation, heavy with Japanese accent.  
"Kyoko, we came here to study, not to eat!"  
"Oh, that's no problem! Let's eat!" Kyoko imperturbably replied, with Sayaka's words going in one ear and out the other.  
"Hey, look here! We came here to seriously study, didn't we? The tests are only three days away!"  
"Ya can't concentrate if yer' running on an empty stomach ya know? Besides, haven't we done this before? You ended up not studying at all!" Trying to dissuade Kyoko from eating was as futile as trying to drive a stake through sawdust.  
"The biggest reason I can't focus is because you're always grumbling 'Sayaka, why did you have to fail again', 'Sayaka' this and 'Sayaka' that, every time we hold these revision sessions!"  
"Huh? Oh! Yeah, that's right!" Kyoko appeared to be genuinely enlightened and laughed at her own foolishness, all to Sayaka's dismay since Kyoko had all but failed to grasp the essence of Sayaka's message. Neither party took notice that Kyoko never once actually complained about Sayaka failing (time and time again); Sayaka's frustration at constantly underperforming in her academics reared its ugly embittered head, so she made falsely accusations against Kyoko in a fit of self-loathing.

"Sorry for the wait, everyone."

Mami laid out the cutlery and set the plates.

"So, let's dig in!" Madoka announced, effectively bringing a tentative end to KyouSaya's incessant squabbling.

"Itadakimasu."

* * *

After finishing her plate, and seconds too, Kyoko reached out for the sakura-mochi but her hand was quickly slapped away by Sayaka.

"Geh, haven't you learnt your lesson?"  
"But Sayaka, you said they're meant to be eaten when they're hot, right?"  
"…fine. But give it to me. I can't trust you not to stick it down your throat in one shot."  
"Ah! Sayaka, that's so mean of you."  
"Oh, shut up and eat."

"Dewishious~" Kyoko purred.  
"I thought I added in too little paste, but it looks like it worked out quite well." Mami spoke in half-modesty, half-vanity.

Distracted by the conversation between Sayaka and Kyoko, Homura reached for a rice-cake, not noticing Madoka too stretching out with her right hand towards it. Their hands bumped. A surge of warmth coursed through Homura's veins upon touching Madoka's warm hands. Her own hands were icy cold. Homura pulled back and took a different piece.

"Mm, it's good." Madoka bit off a small part of the sakura-mochi and red-bean paste oozed out of the open wound.

"Homura-chan, what do you think?"  
"I'll try it later." She placed it on an empty section of her plate and resumed eating her pasta.

"It's really very smooth."  
"Eh? You're eating it too, Sayaka? You haven't even finished your spaghetti." Kyoko rebuked Sayaka as she licked her fingers clean before proceeding to take another custard bun. Sure, she may be a glutton, but she was a gourmet glutton and highly valued the etiquette of dining.  
"Everyone's eating it, so I might as well try it out. Mami-san, can you pass me the teapot?"

"Here you go," Mami removed the teabag; it had been steeped for long enough.

"Oh, that reminds me – what subjects did you fail?" she inquired of Madoka and Sayaka.  
"English…"  
"You're still failing English?" Kyoko jerked her head back, "Didn't you immigrate to America, of all places?"  
"It was the written composition… I went off-topic so the markers gave me a failing grade." Madoka heaved a little sigh towards the end, regretting her costly careless error.

"Well," Sayaka cleared her throat and voiced out her grievances, "I failed Biology, Math and English. I just can't memorise everything down!"  
"Eh, Sayaka-chan, you failed Math?"  
"Yeah."  
"Again…" Madoka breathed, what was most probably, resignation or concern for her dear friend. Nevertheless, to hear Madoka let slip that confession of Sayaka's mathematical incompetency, Sayaka was taken aback and it showed on her face.  
"Have you considered going for tuition?" suggested Mami, though she already knew the answer to her question.  
"Nah, too expensive."

"Sayaka, **wow**," Kyoko spoke in fluent English with great dramatic effect – a 'wow' of a child's innocent fascination.  
"What?" After snapping at Kyoko, Sayaka let out a small harrumph.  
"**You Gagastlas Romulus**."  
"What's that?"

Kyoko saw a similarity between 'Gagastlas' and 'Augustulus', the name of the last Emperor of the Western Roman Empire. Not that the sounds were sufficiently similar to justify a pun. Not that Romulus Augustulus had any remote connection with Sayaka's academic disaster. She simply wanted to call Sayaka a blockhead without having to cope with the consequences of doing so. It's no wonder Sayaka was foxed and she pressed Kyoko for an explanation.

"Never mind. You should eat; don't waste food."  
"Just tell me what you meant."  
"It didn't mean anything."  
"You're so~ clever that I'm sure you could explain what it means if you wanted to. What kind of idiot do you take me for? I bet you've just been calling me names by taking advantage of my poor English."  
"Just eat, Sayaka. Here I'll feed you. Say 'ahh'~"

At first, Kyoko took her fork and rolled some spaghetti. But then she changed her mind and slipped all the rolled spaghetti on a spoon. The more childish Sayaka looked, the better.

"Eh, stop that," she turned her head away.  
"No good? Then how about this? Here comes the choo-choo train! Choo-choo!" Kyoko's hand-made figure 8s in the air as the spoon made its way to Sayaka's mouth.  
"Oi, Kyoko, I can do it myse-mm! Mmm…"

After suffering all of Sayaka's teasing, Kyoko was having a field day getting back at Sayaka for treating her like a little kid. Even as Sayaka protested, she made the metal spoon to squirm between her pressed lips. Disappointed she was, to find that Sayaka had clenched her teeth well and tight. So in a moment of inspiration, Kyoko decided to rim Sayaka's lips from left to right, wriggling the spoon as it went, staining all of Sayaka's mouth with glossy olive oil. At last, Sayaka relented for the shortest of moments. Heavily discomforted, she unclenched her teeth and opened her lips. With the unwavering focus of a crouching tiger patiently waiting for its prey to let down its guard, Kyoko spotted the slip-up and seized the opportunity. She shoved the steel spoon to the back of Sayaka's throat and deposited her load before drawing it out. Sayaka teared up at the sudden unpleasant stimulus and her gag reflex acted up, forcing some stomach acid up the back of her throat.

"Chew, chew, chew it well,  
Everything you eat;  
Chew it and chew it and chew it and chew it,  
Your noodles, fish, and meat!"

As if she were completely oblivious to the potent glares she received from Sayaka, Kyoko cheerily sang the tune of 'Row, Row, Row Your Boat' with lyrics abridged just for the occasion.

"Saya-tan, iz it dewicious?" Kyoko cooed.  
"Mmm… what the hell are you-mm-"  
"Eat up, eat up. Sayakawaii~"

Kyoko started to stroke Sayaka's blue hair gently and smiled adoringly at 'Sayakawaii'. Sayaka was less than amused, but was sentenced to silence when Kyoko pressed her lips to her forehead and muttered, "That's a good girl. Now here comes the choo-choo train!"

"Ah, I still can't use the fork properly." Madoka put down her fork and prepared her tea with the grace and finesse of a tea ceremony practitioner.  
"Just slurp it up like soba!" Kyoko contributed. Taking her chances while Kyoko was distracted, Sayaka seized the day and stuffed Kyoko's widely opened mouth with pastries.  
"Here, Madoka," ignoring Kyoko, Mami began to teach Madoka the dos and don'ts of eating spaghetti.  
"Oh… I see… so that's how you do it," said Madoka. While it was quite clear that she couldn't follow Mami, she tried very hard to look as though she had grasped, considered and accepted them.

* * *

"Oh, Mami-san."  
"Yes?"

All the plates were cleared and the girls, having forgotten the original purpose of the meeting, were cooling off till it was time for dessert.

"Are you still writing poetry?" Madoka innocuously probed.  
"In my spare time. In fact I've written quite a few recently; and not just poetry but prose as well."

Kyoko was reminded of the last time she had read Mami's literary masterpieces, and sniggered. Madoka's question could have been interpreted as an insult if she didn't ask in such an unassuming voice.

"Did you bring any of your poetry with you?"  
"Well I have some with me now, but's it's still a work-in-progress."  
"Let's read it!" Kyoko enthusiastically chimed in with an undercurrent of mockery.  
"Nothing really worth showing you, but I am, in fact, thinking of publishing a collection of them. Luckily, I have the manuscript with me, and I'd welcome your opinions of these trifles I've composed."

She thereupon produced from her breast – that is to say, from within her cardigan – a package wrapped in a cloth of purple crepe. Loosening the material, she carefully extracted a notebook some fifty or sixty pages thick which she proceeded to deposit on the empty dining table.

Homura, who had been sitting silently, muttered an "If I may," and holding the book up to her face, she turned the first page and began to read aloud from the opening section.

_"In the fragrance of that incense which I burn:_  
_When I am weary, seemingly_  
_Your soul trails in the smoky twist and turn_  
_Of love requited. Woe, ah woe is me,_  
_Who in a world as bitter as this_  
_Must in a mist of useless yearning yearn_  
_For the sweet fire of your impassioned kiss"_

Homura put the book back down with a slight frown and shut her eyes. Sayaka picked it up and read from where Homura left off.

"What do you think, Sayaka-chan?" Madoka inquired Sayaka's opinion of Mami's work as the book was being passed around.  
"I don't know. It's beyond me."  
"The effect is strained, the imagery too heightened," Kyoko analysed the opening poem before ending with a Kyouko-esque "It's cheesy."  
"I think it's very passionate, though maybe just a bit too much." Madoka spoke in defence of Mami.  
"I see." Mami looked somewhat crestfallen at receiving such lukewarm responses, but she went on to highlight the merits of her romantic poem. "I took great pains with the construction of this work, and I would like in particular to draw your attention to the contrast of the sweetness of a kiss to the bitterness of the world."  
"Ah, yeah, there it is, there it is." Sayaka absent-mindedly said. She wasn't exactly too sure what that at all mattered.

"Huh, but writing poetry does sound kind of fun doesn't it?" Kyoko, on the other hand, was impressed by the potential for wordplay and the nuances of feeling inherent in the writing of poetry.  
"It certainly is," Mami agreed.  
"Then, let's write poems now!"  
"What exactly did you come here for, Kyoko?" Sayaka tried to reel Kyoko in but there was no stopping the girl.  
"I was only following you. Besides, can't we do some snap-poetry before dessert?"  
"Huh? So you're already thinking of dessert?!"  
"It's alright. There's cake."  
"That's not the problem, Mami-san."  
"Oh pipe down now won't you, Sayaka?" Kyoko landed her head onto Sayaka's lap and stared up her face as she said that.

"What are you doing now?"  
"Shh! I'm finding inspiration." That wasn't a lie, not at all. Kyoko thought Sayaka would look different from this angle and she was spot-on. Intrigued, she continued to stare Sayaka's face under the pretence of finding her muse.  
"My, my, she really has gotten into it."  
"She gets into this sort of mood from time to time."  
"But she really has been studying a lot lately," observed Madoka  
"I can't say she hasn't."  
"Mou, I can't think of anything." Kyoko floundered about, tossing and turning in Sayaka's lap.  
"Then why don't we simply make the person to our right the subject of each poem?"  
"That sounds like a start, Madoka!"  
"Mm, let's."  
"Come on, come on, start already!"  
"Why don't you start first Kyoko; since you're so eager."  
"I'll write what you say." Mami took out a pen.

After a while of contemplation, she spoke: "Burn incense," most possibly still under the influence of Mami's romantic poem. Was it going to be a free-verse poem or a haiku? Though the phrase was quite witty as an opening, Kyoko abandoned it, asking of Mami to cancel out the line. Then she said,

_"Walpurgisnacht's Dream takes place in this face"_

"What's that…" Sayaka voiced out her confusion.  
"Well, I'm not really too sure. I think it's a festival."  
"Sounds like a circus to me."  
"Hmm. Splendid."  
"And then?"

Kyoko, assuming a 'Thinker' pose as she lay sideways, racked her brains but no bright notions seemed to emerge for she began to nip at her fingernails. She mooned at Sayaka's bust for some time, and then she started speaking briskly,

_"At which one offers sacred wine_  
_Two orifices dim"_

She seemed to be unable to think of anything to add on to her sudden outburst. Her eyes wandered hither and thither before resting again on Sayaka's bust. She twirled several strands of her hair, twirling them up and down for some time while the others waited.

_"So deep no hairs appear"_

Mami wrote down the verse and put her pen down. Kyoko's four-verse poem did not rhyme, but they definitely had an artistic air to them. Thinking Kyoko was done, Mami was about to praise Kyoko when,

_"Sayaka's nostrils."_

Quickly Mami jotted down the last phrase. She inspected the strange poem and after adding punctuation, read it aloud.

_"Walpurgisnacht's Dream takes place in this face_  
_At which one offers sacred wine._  
_Two orifices dim;_  
_So deep no hairs appear:_  
_Sayaka's nostrils."_

"Wait, since when were my nostrils the subject of the poem?" Sayaka was feeling far from flattered.  
"Since I started looking at your nose."  
"That was what you were looking at all along?!"  
"Yeah," adopting a most serious tone, as if she were to expound on some profound philosophical insight, Kyoko continued, "I'll be frank here: it only looks pretty on the outside."  
"What!?"  
"Calm down, you two," Mami inquired, paying no attention at all to the jittering Sayaka, "Kyoko, what is the title?"  
"SIREN" replied Kyoko, without missing a beat.

"The poem doesn't seem to follow any sustained meter, and it doesn't adhere to any classical poem structure. This free-verse poem looks quite creative. It does sound distinctly Japanese, almost like a haiku, seeing how the resolution to the subject matter only comes in at the last line. It sounds very poetic. It's good and it's funny."

Mami seemed rather impressed by Kyoko's poem and started on her analysis. Sayaka, annoyance twitching from every feature on her face and electric messages flashing from her eyes, signaled desperately for disengagement. Mami, like some nonconductive substance, was immune to those distraught discharges and attended to the eager gallery.

"Notice how subtly Kyoko has worded the poem. Clearly, upon reaching the end, it's clear that every verse is referring to Miki Sayaka's face and nostrils. However, before then, the rich imagery and unusual descriptions keep us guessing as to actual subject matter. With words such as 'Walpurgisnacht' and 'wine', the element of festivity and fun emerges. Then in contrast, 'Dream' and 'sacred' brings about a feeling of spiritual ritual and mystery, as if one was worshipping a deity. Then, the next two verses gives the impression that the poet was staring at something of unrivalled beauty and mystery. At last, all of the readers' high hopes of any embedded fanciful meaning crash down at 'Sayaka's nostrils'. This poem does not look like a poem, and yet it is imbued with a poem's spirit. It begs the question: what exactly is the poem referring? Sayaka's nostrils or perhaps the notion of human attachment to impermanent objects? Were Sayaka's nostrils the actual only subject matter, or were they just a metaphor for something greater? I cannot make heads or tails of the actual meaning and am left guessing. There are few poems that leave readers hanging in such a non-aggravating manner. Is the poem dark or carefree? Is it intelligent or rambling? Is it a joke or only disguised as one? The more you think of it, the less obvious the poem becomes. It's a rare kind of poem that gets better the more you read it."

"Ehe~" Kyoko honestly believed Mami was over-analysing the poem, "it's just luck."  
"What's more, a siren can refer to either an actual warning siren or the dangerous yet beautiful creatures of mythology, portrayed as femme fatales who lured nearby sailors with their enchanting music and voices to shipwreck on the rocky coast of their island. The former sounds unpleasing and the latter, pleasing to the ears, yet despite the contrasting meanings, they both allude to danger. This arrangement of opposites is also seen in the poem body, but even the actual topic of discussion is left for the reader to make up. Overall, I think it's a good poem. So now I believe it is Sayaka's turn?"  
"Come on, Sayaka." Kyoko egged her on. "Get on with it already."  
"Yeah, yeah, give me some time," Sayaka was completely flustered. She had not expected Mami to take Kyoko so seriously, and frankly speaking, she was quite awed by the wealth of meaning in Kyoko's poem.

Extracting herself from the thought of Kyoko's SIREN, she turned to her right and peered at Homura. Homura was to be the addressee of her poem.

Inspired by a surge of ill feeling, she spoke in one breath.

_"Woe to every sinful liar._  
_Even the deaf hears the blind man's cry._  
_Even the blind sees the mute man wail._  
_Even the mute speaks to the deaf man._  
_So how is it that some are blinder in the light than the dark?"_

"Okay… and the title?"  
"A title? Mmm… Prudence"  
"Very direct and a poignant message. Is that all?" Mami commented.  
"Yes, it is."  
"Now. Akemi-san?"

She opened her eyes, and the words flowed out slowly.

_"In old days,"_

Akemi Homura's lips twitched upwards.

_ "I remember a house that was lovelier than the rest."_

She looked straight ahead.

_"Peach and plum lined the little paths;_  
_Orchid and iris grew by the stream below_

Then she stared off into the distance.

_"There walked beside it girls in satins and silks._  
_Within, there glinted a robe of kingfisher-green."_

With a rusty voice, she concluded.

_"That was how we met; I tried to call her to me_  
_But my tongue stuck and the words would not come."_

But then she turned to Miki Sayaka and almost in direct response to her, she spoke.

_"According to the seed that's sown,_  
_So is the fruit you reap therefrom,_  
_Doer of good will gather good,_  
_Doer of evil, evil reaps,_  
_Down is the seed and thou shalt taste the fruit thereof."_

Sayaka couldn't tell if she was talking to her or herself.

"It sounds beautiful. What is it called?" Madoka, who brought out a medium-sized cake onto the table and sat herself down, asked.  
"I wouldn't know." So Mami didn't add a title on the manuscript.  
"Hey! That's one of those monk sutras near the end!" Kyoko informed.  
"If it is not to your liking, then," she turned to face Kyoko, "should I have quoted the Bible?"  
"Eh, whatever. Madoka, you're up." Sayaka interjected, not wanting to dwell any longer on the poems.  
"Eh? I-I'm not yet ready. Why don't you go first Mami?"  
"Hm? Okay. I have an idea already."

_"Once, there was a mountain. On the mountain, was a temple._  
_In the temple, was a monk. And the monk said,"_

Kyoko left Sayaka's lap and craned her neck in Mami's direction, curious to find out what the monk said.

_"Once, there was a mountain. On the mountain, was a temple._  
_In the temple, was a monk. And the monk said,"_

"Oi! Mami-san!" Sayaka light-heartedly cried, "the story doesn't end, does it?"  
"Hehe, you got me. Then, Madoka-san?"  
"It's finally my turn, ehehe." She sheepishly said, still trying to think something that could rival the others' compositions.

_"Can you take me back where I came from?_  
_Can you take me back?  
Can you take me back where I came from?  
Brother, can you take me back?"_

"Oh, the simple repetition sounds catchy."  
"I'm not too sure about it," modest Madoka meekly murmured.  
"On second thought, can you cancel it out?"  
"Eh? But it was perfectly fine."

* * *

"Cake! Cake! Round cake! Who is the round cake?"

The lights had all been dimmed; the room was illuminated in a hazy grey.

"Is the cake Sayaka?"

The night was cold. Out in the streets, people walked hurriedly, worriedly, to and fro. An endless line of cars lined up on the expressway.

"No, not me,"

Sayaka brought her hands together, palm-to-palm, before her face like in prayer. She closed her right eye and her right hand fell forwards, assuming the sword-finger stance.

"I am the fig,"

her left palm turned outstretched,

"and the round cake is hungry,"

before folding back in.

"Is the cake Kyoko?"

Ambulances and fire engines too were caught in the terrible traffic. There were so many of them. Revving car engines, blaring horns, panicked shouts, ringing bicycle bells – the caterwauling pressed on the people from all sides.

"No, not me."

Her left hand cupped her face.

"I'm the date,"

her right hand drew circles on the table,

"and the round cake is dreamy."

Kyoko pointed at Mami, saying

"Is the cake Mami?"

Purple lamplight shone brightest, brighter than the moon. They could not see the moon. There must have been an accident in the city.

"No, not me."

Mami clapped her hands.

"For I am the olive,"

and tapped her toes,

"and the big round cake goes round and round."

"Is the cake Homura?"

The sound of a soft maiden's laughter passing in front of the house could be distinctly heard from the kitchen and the sound of fervent folk chanting accompanied by Javanese gamelan, playing in unpredictable snatches, rippled through the night.

"I am the pomegranate."

Sayaka rapped the table with her fingers to the beat, and Kyoko played the counter-beat. Mami bobbed her head in time. The slow gonging of the bells and chimes went on at a steady rhythm.

"The round cake is here. Is the cake Madoka?"

"No, you're wrong. I am the peach. The peaches are there for all to share."

"But the dream tonight is a strange dream indeed. Atop the plate is the butterfly's dream."  
"It's round and plump, so let's eat up!"

The night was still young. Everyone had a nice big portion of cake. Homura had rejected hers. Madoka offered to share her slice.

* * *

"Aya," Kyoko stretched her arms far back behind her back as she heaved a heavy breath. "I'm stuffed."  
"So am I." Sayaka seconded, slackly leaning on Kyoko's shoulder.  
"What happens now?" she asked, hoping that someone would bring up the matter of studying and motivate her to burn the midnight oil.  
"Nothing. Madoka won't mind it if we sleep in." Kyoko got off her chair to prepare a cup of hot milk, and Sayaka barely managed to catch herself from losing her balance.  
"I guess not. Tomorrow's a weekend anyways so it should be fine." Madoka's agreeable response took the wind out of Sayaka's sails. She was so utterly sleepy that she couldn't perform and she finally surrendered her mind to drowsiness.  
"So much for studying." As Sayaka so succinctly put it, from the very start the gathering was doubtlessly going to end without anyone having studied.  
"It's going to be alright. We still have the weekends." Madoka reassured her before retiring for the night.

Even this gathering of gasbags cannot wheeze on forever, and the pressure of their conversation was fast whimpering down towards exhaustion.

"Want some?"

Kyoko sat back down and offered Sayaka a cup of milk. She took it and wordlessly sipped away at the simmering drink, being careful to blow at the liquid surface before every sip. A drip of milk from the cup plopped down onto the table. Sayaka, ignoring that, stared intently at the rising steam. Stirred by the gentle breezing of a pedestal fan, the steam floated up in loops and vortices, finally to dissipate.

"You know, Sayaka."  
"Mmhmm?"

Beads of condensed water glissaded down the untouched fruit plate left to stand on the free-standing counter. Kyoko picked up the apple and crunched into it.

"Do you think there's a heaven?"

Kyoko began the conversation on an enigmatic note.

"I thought you were Christian?"  
"The last Christian died on the cross."

Kyoko twirled her cup round and round her hands, peering at her distorted reflection on the unstable liquid surface.

"So, do you think there's a heaven?"

Kyoko's eyes never met Sayaka's.

"I'm sure there is."  
"It would be nice, wouldn't it?"

Already, Kyoko's answer contained implicit doubt. She continued asking Sayaka.

"What do you think it's like there?"  
"I don't know. I've never been there before. But I think anyone who's in there is happy."  
"Why?"  
"Beats me. Maybe they've got everything and everyone they love in there."  
"At best, wouldn't it just be a perfect model of life on Earth?"

The drowsiness that weighed so heavily on Sayaka's eyes fell away from her as she listened to Kyoko's despondent words. Her eyes were wide-open in alertness, and heaviness afflicted her heart.

"People change. Their feelings die. They find new joys every day. When I think about it that way, Heaven's actually quite a scary place. You live with so much joy. And day after day, love turns grey like the skin of a dying man but you never actually notice."

The milk was getting cold.

"That's the problem with people, not Heaven." Sayaka spoke up heatedly.  
"True, true. But it makes you think, doesn't it? Would you want to live forever?"

"Kyoko…"

Sayaka reached out for Kyoko's hand, but Kyoko withdrew it back into her pocket and left her hanging.

Sayaka was an optimistic person. She had to be optimistic. If ever she lost her positivity, she wouldn't know how to carry on. How strongly the urge to blast out at Kyoko and prove her wrong welled up within her, but she couldn't deny that she felt the same way Kyoko did – a perception so irreconcilable with hope that Sayaka shunned. Kyoko always told her, "Life doesn't have to be that complicated," whenever she complained to her about all sorts and manners of everyday issues. So why was Kyoko acting the way she was? Sayaka couldn't understand – Sayaka couldn't remember.

"I mean, Heaven can't possibly be a place like that, am I right? Even if you think of it as a fulfilment of all your heart's desires, you wouldn't necessarily be happy now would you? So that can't be the real Heaven, unless God forced everyone to be happy. But what sort of happiness is that anyways?"

For a second, Kyoko's eyes clouded over. Beneath her philosophical discourse, her mind returned to Papa, Mama and Momo: the dearly departed. Surely they're in a happier place.

"Imagine you had a lover and you're attracted to his looks, but then you start doubting 'What's it worth'? And then you no longer love him, or perhaps you never did,"

Kyoko paused for a little, presumably to catch her breath. She averted her eyes away from Sayaka's. She couldn't bear to look at her as she rambled on without a specific direction.

"Maybe you're attracted by his character, but so what? What reason do you have to justify your love for him, that it may also justify your hatred for another person? That he's nice, and she's scary. It's all in your head, it's all in the mind."

"You see, that's the scary bit. You see the world differently. You're feeling happy today, but it ain't gonna last so what's the point? It's all in the mind. You don't really have a purpose, nothing feels the same, and you realize there're a lot of things you don't really understand. You're always gonna be alone in the end. Sometimes, you wonder what it really means to live. And every time you come to an answer, you're let down again. Then you move on, even before anything starts."

Kyoko downed her milk in one swig, before summing it all up with a nihilistic quip: "So what if we're happy? What happens after that? So what if we have a future? What happens after the future?"

The rain had stopped some time ago and the clouds cleared up.

Moonlight cast down on Kyoko's face, revealing a very natural sombre-looking expression like that of a man who had lived well beyond his years. That very expression of resignation and detachment was always on her face that night behind her veneer of liveliness, but not once did Sayaka realize it till then. In her mind, she cursed bitterly at herself for not having noticed sooner. But even if she did, what could she have done?

Something about Kyoko looked so hauntingly beautiful. She was so unlike her usual self. The soft smile which graced her lips appeared to be all the more lonely under the faint moonlight. That soft smile told her, Kyoko was definitely happy. But it also showed her, that Kyoko was ready to embrace death at any time. It told her, that Kyoko was so happy she could die with no regrets. Kyoko looked like she was going to leave her there and then. Her eyes were filled with a terrible kindness and nostalgia.

"Kyoko." Sayaka's voice trembled firmly; blood rushed up to her head.

Sayaka felt compelled to dispute, to shout out 'Heaven is real!' or 'It doesn't have to be this way.'

But what use would that have been? Could Kyoko depend on Sayaka to understand her and soothe her soul? This made the aching in Sayaka's chest all the more painful.

"There's always a tomorrow, isn't there? There's always reason to hope, isn't there?"

Sayaka's voice started to crack.

"You still have a lot of things to love, and a lot of things love you too."

Kyoko wouldn't be convinced by that, Sayaka knew. Sayaka was clumsy when it came to matters of the heart. But still she struggled to convey her sadness and frustration at being unable to ease Kyoko's angst. She didn't really know where she was going with the dialogue and she didn't really know what she was talking about, but what she knew was that she had to get her message across.

"I'm here for you, aren't I? I won't let you go."

Sayaka roughly grabbed onto Kyoko's arm and buried her face into Kyoko's shoulder.

Kyoko didn't react.

"Kyoko."  
"Sayaka?" Kyoko answered.

Finally, Kyoko turned to face Sayaka.

"You're fine just the way you are. Don't think too much about these things."

"Yeah, I know that."

"Kyoko."  
"Sayaka?" Kyoko answered.

"If you don't believe you're happy… I'll just have to convince you," her voice trailed off to something resembling a child's blubbering.

"Then you'd better persuade me well, Sayaka," Kyoko affectionately whispered into Sayaka's ear. She gently stroked Sayaka's hair and back, as a mother would caress her newborn. Sayaka's tense body soon relaxed and she drifted off into the realm of sleep.

Silently, Kyoko carried Sayaka in her arms and proceeded to finish off her apple. Having eaten even the apple core, she disposed of the stalk and walked off to the guest bedroom.

"Good night, Homura."  
"Good night."

Kyoko just noticed Homura loitering in the vicinity. She probably heard the whole exchange, not that that bothered Kyoko. What Kyoko really wanted was a little shut-eye, and to wake up to a brand new day.

* * *

At a corner of the house, there was a figure of the Goddess of Mercy, Kannon: Observer of the Sounds of the World, fixed to the wall. Soft pink light radiated from the altar.

She smiled. Where was she? Was she here? Was she there? Was she everywhere? She observed the sounds of the world, the cheers and the tears.

After Kyoko and Sayaka disappeared into the second floor, Homura retrieved the uneaten fruits from the counter and placed them on the altar. Sitting on a small stool close by, she offered a toast to her old friend but she received no reciprocation. Statues wouldn't respond. Seated in a white garden chair, she drank her tea and ate the fruit offerings, starting with the slice of pumpkin.

* * *

Madoka happened to open her eyes and, looking round, she found that Homura had left her room and in her place was a large teddy bear sitting on the swivel chair. The stuffed toys that normally covered the bed were moved to her desk. The lamp had been left on by Homura; their textbooks and notebooks were tidied up and placed in a corner by Homura.

Looking up at the clock, she discovered it hadn't been more than a few minutes after she fell asleep. She crawled sluggishly out of bed and set foot in the dark hallways, intending to get a drink of water and also look for Homura.

A few feet ahead, Madoka spotted that the guest room's door was no longer slightly ajar as she recalled, but wide open. She took a peep to see if there was anyone sleeping in the guest room and she saw that Sayaka lay snuggled in the bed fast asleep. By the bedside on the nightstand, its cold, silver surface a sleek reflection of the cold night, two rings lay gleaming.

Kyoko, her hair splayed out in every which way, laid facing left, to Sayaka, open-mouthed and snoring. Her head slipped down from the pillow and she nuzzled up into Sayaka's bosom. As if to demonstrate her dominance over Sayaka, her right arm was stretched out so that her fist was planted against Sayaka's ear. In some strange sleeping counterattack, Sayaka laid on her back with one leg flung across Kyoko's stomach and her other leg entangled with Kyoko's legs. Perfectly at ease in their unnatural dispositions, they slumbered deeply on.

Madoka smiled at seeing such an adorable sight and drew the curtains for them before she left, making sure to close the door on her way out.

Then she noticed something oddly moving about the faint illumination of the purple night-lamp in the darkness. Over the unpretentious but gallant interior-scene of the Kaname residence, it casted a flickering radiance so sweet and gentle, that it seemed to be inviting Madoka's marvelment at the beauty of the night. Dead silence reigned, broken only by the ticking of the wall clock and Kyoko's quiet intermittent snoring.

Half-expecting the person to be Homura, Madoka made her way down the stairs. The glow of the lamp, which hitherto bathed the whole of the kitchen, was sharply segmented by a dark shadow.

"Ah Mama."  
"Can't sleep?"

Junko Kaname had her hair wrapped in a bath towel and dressed in a simple white nightgown. She sat with one hand holding a shot glass. Whiskey and a bucket of ice were placed nearby on the kitchen table.

"No, not really. I just woke up. I'm only going to drink water."  
"Mm. Go ahead. I'll just be drinking here."  
"Oh, you shouldn't be drinking so often Mama. It's bad for your health."  
"If I stop drinking, it'll be bad for my career."

Madoka giggled at her mother's response. Her mother had been working overtime lately and sometimes came back during the wee hours of the night.

"By the way, have you seen Homura?"  
"The Akemi girl? Don't think so."  
"Okay. See you in the morning."  
"See you."

Madoka went back to her room, wondering where Homura could have gone.

* * *

"Welcome back, Madoka."  
"Eh!?" Madoka looked flabbergasted, "where did you go?"  
"Just the washroom."

Akemi Homura sat on the swivel chair, reading a book in some cursive language Madoka did not recognise.

"Aren't you tired?"  
"I'm fine."

Madoka plopped down on her bed and got under her blanket. It was a cold night.

"Aren't you sleeping, Homura?"  
"I'm fine."

She was wearing a set of red-rimmed glasses that she usually carried around in her bag but hardly ever used. Homura didn't seem to have any eyesight problems. Then Madoka's thoughts moved onto a whole different tangent.

_'She'd look pretty moe if she tied up her hair in double French braids.'_

Homura looked at Madoka at that very moment and caught Madoka looking at her.

"What's wrong? Can you sleep?" Homura asked Madoka. She didn't appear to be too concerned as she resumed her reading shortly after.  
"I guess so." Madoka managed to hide her thoughts.  
"Then, do you want to hear a bedtime story?"  
"Huh? I mean, of course. Thanks. Why don't you try a Chinese one this time?"

She put her book down and took her glasses off.

Madoka closed her eyes and snuggled comfortably in her bed.

"Where do I begin?"

She never tired of hearing the stories of the games and tricks the Claras played on Homura every so often, or of the many folk stories Homura told. She would sometimes bring up parables of the sages and also talk about people she knew. Some of them had sad stories. Some of them had happy stories. Sometimes she would talk about herself. Some of them were sad stories. Some of them were happy stories. At times, she would even bring whole novels along and read aloud. Whenever that happened, Madoka wouldn't fall asleep and would simply listen to Homura keep talking. She noticed that halfway in the chapters, Homura would fully immerse herself in the story and the act of storytelling. Her voice would overflow with the emotion of the characters and the text, as if she had lost herself in the story and became one with it. Today, they had planned to continue where they left off but Madoka put forth a special request.

"Are you fine with Zhuangzi's Butterfly Dream? It's rather short."

The night was coming to a close.

"Of course. And if I'm still awake, you can just tell more stories or sing a lullaby."

For the last time that day, Homura and Madoka met eyes.

_"Okay then. Once upon a time…"_

Her voice – as pure as the driven snow.

* * *

**_"little boy blue"_**

* * *

That night, Kyoko dreamed.

* * *

_**"blow your horn"**_

* * *

She dreamt she was a butterfly, fluttering in the meadows and the plains. She was only conscious of her existence as a butterfly and not of Kyoko.

* * *

_**"mommy's weeping"**_

* * *

She landed on Kyoko's shoulder in the dream. Kyoko and her family were out on a picnic.

* * *

_**"daddy's gone"**_

* * *

"What's Heaven, dad?"

* * *

_**"you make your life"**_

* * *

"It's the Kingdom of God."

* * *

_**"through your strife"**_

* * *

"Does it really exist?"  
"Of course."

* * *

_**"little boy blue"**_

* * *

"Then why can't we see it?"

* * *

_**"I love you"**_

* * *

And when Kyoko woke up in the dead of night, she could not tell whether she was Kyoko who had dreamt she was a butterfly, or whether she was actually a butterfly, dreaming she was Kyoko.

* * *

**A/N:** Ah, this took a combined 20+ hours to write and edit, mostly because I was fiddling around with loads of stuff about the text. This week, I learnt that my life can function as per normal with only 3 hours of sleep each day. And also a disclaimer: I didn't write that poem Mami first recited. I got it from Natsume Soseki's 吾輩は猫である (I Am A Cat), translated by Aiko Ito &amp; Graeme Wilson. It was too good (cheesy) to pass. Kudos to my beta reader, K'ger for helping me beta this first story of mine. **Minor changes made. **P.S. I respond to all reviews.


	3. II: Nagisa's Saturday

The barber awoke to a cold morning. He picked up his silver scissors and snipped away.

The beggar awoke to a slow morning. He got up and rested beneath the shade of a tree.

The fireman awoke to a long morning. He received a call: a summoning to the silver mountain.

Thus, began a Saturday morning.

So wake up, Nagisa! Wake up to the morning dew!

* * *

**Chapter IIA**

**Nagisa: The Barber, The Beggar and The Fireman**

* * *

There beneath the blue suburban skies in the early Saturday morning – luscious cool blue skies resembling the most mouth-watering of blue cheeses, what with all the mozzarella-white creamy-soft clouds sporting a new coat of cheddar-yellow in the light of a morning when the sun had yet to fully rise – Nagisa skipped along the streets of a busy Mitakihara, making her way to Mami's place. They were going to travel all the way to Kazamino City to visit her Nana. Still, Nagisa thought that she had left the house far too early; it was a whole 5 hours before Nagisa was supposed to rendezvous with Mami. Without much to do, Nagisa decided to wander around town to start off the day.

She thought to herself: "If the sky were cheese, it'd be even prettier! What does sky taste like…"

Indeed, the sky was very pretty to Nagisa, even if it wasn't cheese. But if the sky was a cheese, Nagisa would definitely take a bite out of it. Nagisa thought many non-cheesy things were very beautiful. The sky was pretty. The sea was sparkling. The trees swinging in the afternoon breeze were wonderful. Mami-nee too was very beautiful. In particular, her head and hair looked dangerously appetizing and always reminded her of the light yellow hue of parmesan cheese. If Mami-nee were a cheese, she would eat her too!

As Nagisa traipsed down the street with her light backpack swinging with the breeze in her right hand, thinking such delightful thoughts, she came across a stream. Both banks of the stream were lined with large cherry trees that had only recently been in bloom. Neat rows of yellow mustard and camellia flowers stretched from one end to the other. Looking into the clear water reflecting the azure blue above, she saw two koi fish swimming.

One was orange with white spots; the other was white with orange spots. They were chasing each other's tail fins round and round in a circle like a dog trying to catch its tail. Many concentric ripples formed at their fins as they flipped them and moved about speedily in the water, much like the fishes' circular movement. Nagisa didn't know where they were wanted to go, to be going in such awful, dizzying circles. In her mind, she likened the two fish to the swarming throngs of suited men streaming from street to street in the business districts on Monday.

Nagisa's heart beat with excitement as she watched the two go at it, much to the contrary of the boringly uneventful chase. She dropped her bag and squatted down, fully entranced by the riveting scene. She found herself cheering on for the white fish with orange spots. It looked more like cheese, it looked like Muenster cheese to be precise, than the other one.

Thus, with that in her mind, Nagisa named the white fish Furo and the orange fish Maju. Put them together and you'd get 'fromage'!

"I'm leaving you, Furo!"  
"No! Stay with me, please!"

On a whim, Nagisa gave the fish strangely impassioned lines, turning the casual swim out to be a dramatic scene on one of those long-running Saturday night soap operas of bickering lovers Mami liked to watch.

"Listen to me! I can explain everything! It was just an accident!"  
"Again with your fishy excuses! Stay away!" Maju said in a strangely monotone falsetto, sounding more like a pompous English noblewoman of the 18th century than an angry lover.  
"Wait!"  
"Don't touch me!"

The chase was getting more intense and Nagisa's awkwardly improvised drama theatrical quickly turned south, sounding more like a manzai routine as she gradually ran out of ideas.

"Should I touch myself?"  
"What the hell!?"

In the meantime, Maju was slowly but surely closing the gap. She started to rapidly open and close his mouth and flapped her fins with renewed vigour. Bubbles started escaping from her mouth at breakneck speed; her emotionless fish-eyes shone with the ferocious spirit of ten thousand piranhas.

Bursting with spirit, Maju lunged at Furo with the speed of a low-quality dirt-cheap BB gun pellet, which was nonetheless considerably fast for koi fish.

"Oh no! Run!" Nagisa squeaked out, agitated by the unexpected turn of events.

At once, Furo gave a flick of his tail and deftly did a barrel roll. Maju swam ahead, abruptly putting an end to the high-octane chase scene. Furo chased Maju off into the ultramarine blue, no longer trying to nip at its tail.

Nagisa got up and gave one good last look at the retreating figures before she went on her way. She eyed the butterflies fluttering about in the rows of flowers. How beautiful they were! The entire family of butterflies took flight and set course for the hill. Had they made their home there? Or were they vagrants, hopping from place to place? At least they had each other. Nagisa bade farewell to them and went on her way.

* * *

Very soon, as Nagisa advanced along the pathway with the blithe gait of the carefree child she was, the swirling flora and fauna to her right and the picaresque view of a green hill hiding part of the sun gave way to a backdrop of short low-rise shophouses. The scent of saffron, cumin, pepper and other sensational spices wafted by and tangoed with the aroma of the baker's baked breads. Not to mention, the cheese vendor was open for business too. Nagisa had a great nose for cheese.

New morn's stillness was displaced by the scheduled game of chatter and business as the hustle and bustle of the market grew to accommodate the ever-growing number of shoppers. She had, very evidently, entered the marketplace.

Strutting along the irregularly patterned stone-paved sidewalk in the midst of the swarm of people, she took in all the sights and sounds of the new market morning. Business had always been brisk at Mitakihara's marketplace. She would know. The homely bazaar, with its long-standing history and extensive assortment of products and produce, had long since rooted itself as an everyday destination amongst the locals.

"Oh, Momoe!"

From within one of the linearly arranged shops across the street, a voice called out. Nagisa turned and saw a bearded old man waving at her with exaggerated motions through a blue stained glass shop front window. The glaring sunlight made it sparkle like the great oceans.

"Ojii-chan!"

She ran across the street and swung open the tall whitewashed door. A blast of cold air blew through her. The wind chimes rattled shrilly, filling the room once devoid of noise with an airy lingering percussive ringing.

"Gu-do moruning!"  
"Good morning, Momoe."

The old man returned the greeting before returning to his work. Pushing his round-frame glasses up from the tip of nose, he picked up the trimming scissors and attended to his bonsai. Snip. Snip.

Nagisa tottered over to one of the many barber chairs and reclined in it comfortably.

"How's business?"

Outside, the English 'BARBER' chromed metal sign swayed in the cool Saturday wind and the hanging red-and-blue-striped barber pole glowed and revolved leisurely.

The old barber and his crafts changed every season. In spring, he would try his hand at pottery. In summer, he painted. In autumn, bonsai, and during winter he transformed into a professional woodworker. What a quirky old man! He changed his hobbies as frequently as he changed clothes, but he did not change very often. Thankfully, all year round he was a barber and an excellent barber at that. He was a refined barber coming from a lineage of royal hairstylists and metalworkers dating back to the early Edo period.

"Not half-bad, I guess."

The rickety old man still wore the same fine white broadcloth suit he had been wearing ever since he opened shop, but it was bitterly the worse for wear. No doubt its manufacturer meant that it should be white. No doubt, too, it was sold as white by some haberdasher specializing in fine garb and garment. No less certainly, the old barber must have asked for a white broadcloth suit at the time of purchase though the reason why he bought it white, easily stainable, was anyone's guess. But all that happened probably six or seven years ago and its glory days had since long gone, now declining into a Dark Age where its present colour was a sombre grey, mixed with various spots of inerasable soy-sauce and faint traces of pink lipstick. A gorgeous suit once the white of brie had become spotted and spangled like a very blue blue cheese.

Pausing from his intricate work, he stood up and shuffled to a nearby desk, retrieving a handful of photographs.

His full, straight moustache originated on the corners of his mouth and grew downward past his clean-shaven lips and chin in two tapered tendrils, extending past the jawline. Nagisa noticed how they would swing alternatingly, in half time, whenever the old barber moved around. Left, left, left, right, left…

"Whee~"

Inspired by the wild and free spirit of aforementioned dangling moustache, she spun the hydraulic barber chair clockwise in many turns till she was dizzy.

"Here, take a look-see," the barber called out to Nagisa.

He passed the photos to her. He always did this every time Nagisa came around; sharing photographs of every head he's had the pleasure to know recently. Nagisa always liked to look out for the shiniest and the baldest of heads. Also sometimes, there were customers who would holler out, 'Surprise me' or 'Do it anyway', and the barber would proceed to fashion all sorts of avant-garde and bonsai hairstyles on their heads. Why, just the other day he pulled a classic, all-time favourite, five-petal flower, though after he took a commemoration photograph he went and shaved the man wholly bald. Having leafed through the stack a couple of times engrossedly, Nagisa bounced out of her cosy position and placed the photographs back on the desktop.

"Where's Obaa-chan?"

Hearing that, he stopped for a little before continuing with his work. Snip. Snip. Snip.

"She's upstairs, sleeping."  
"I thought she gets up really really early in the morning."

Nagisa proceeded to observe the barber's excellent craftsmanship, peeking over his shoulder as he meticulously trimmed, cut, and shaved his collection of bonsai. Perhaps what was most worrying was that his treatment of human heads offered to him on a silver platter greatly paled in comparison to the care he was putting into his current endeavour.

"Normally," he muttered, still snipping away. "Have you eaten breakfast yet?"

Over the years, his face began to look muddy and was streaked with deep lines like a dry river bed. His hair was turning thin and grey. Only his carefully maintained glossy black moustache remained timeless and retained any of the youthful glows of his glory days.

"Nagisa hasn't eaten yet!"

Hearing that, the barber fluttered his eyes to Nagisa for a brief moment before looking on his work with outstanding focus; carving out various unsightly protrusions. Snip. Snip.

After a long pause, he broke the silence.

"Then why don't you stop by the new café at the end of the lane? I heard the food's good."

"If Boss says so, then Nagisa will go!"  
"Run along. A growing girl like you has to eat."  
"See you later!"

The wind chimes sang as Nagisa swung open the door and sprung out into the streets. Snip. Snip. Snip. The sharp sound of snipping flew out the door.

"Goodbye, Momoe."

The sun rose above the hill and its glorious countenance was reflected in every mirror of the old barber's shop. He set down his trimming scissors and inspected his unfinished work. Oddly unnatural it was, not in the least retaining its original shape but also not fleshing out the themes of artistry and elegance. It looked horribly contrived and lifeless, fully lacking in finesse and subtlety. His lips crumpled to a crease of sorrow.

In the glistening sunshine underlined by the steady drizzling of the cicadas in trees, another customer walked in.

Still feeling displeased, he let out an irate "Welcome."  
"Morning."

"Bonsai?" the owner's quirky little curio caught his eye.  
"Not to me."  
"What d'you mean? It looks great!"

And the old barber could not help but frown more deeply at those words despite feeling flattered.

Snip. Snip. Snip. Scissors screamed in his fingers. From that moment onwards, he knew that that day he would feature some of his most artistic masterpieces of hairdressing to date.

* * *

She then scampered out of the barber shop and got on her way, so happy-go-lucky. Nagisa had wanted to see the barber's wife too, but it looked like she had become a bit of a heavy sleeper this autumn. A lot of people got lazier in fall, Nagisa noticed. Sayaka-nee suffered the most of them all and somehow she was still in the dark. She probably wasn't ready to believe she was putting on weight. But facts, known or not, are alas still facts. Nagisa found out a long time ago that people reject what they don't want to hear. And Sayaka-nee was always very adamant about what she believed. If she weren't so strong-headed, she wouldn't be a fighter for justice!

Nagisa admired Sayaka-nee greatly. Sayaka-nee did good things and fought for justice in her own way. Sayaka-nee was a nice person! Every time she dropped by Mami's, she wouldn't ever forget to bring a gift of cheese! Sayaka, banzai! But Sayaka-nee was always shadowed by that freeloading redhead Anko delinquent. And what a parasitic relationship they had!

Anko was like the dreadful mosquito buzzing softly in the dead of the night, sucking out the blood from Sayaka's body and flying away before Sayaka could give her a good whacking. All she did was hang around Sayaka and take advantage of her kindness and tolerance! Based on what Nagisa had heard from Mami, Anko was always crashing in and freeloading off of Sayaka's family. She practically lived with them!

Nagisa and Anko were bitter enemies. Nagisa knew Anko very well, like the back of her hand. Whenever they were all alone at Mami's, Anko would eat some of the cheese the other girls brought just for Nagisa! Greedy Anko! Anko was a greedy eater and couldn't keep her hands to herself! Nagisa just knew that if Sayaka continued to bestow her kindness to the very undeserving Anko, one day Anko would eat Sayaka-nee too! Being so worried, Nagisa really wanted to confront Anko confidently like the grown-up she was but Anko sometimes revealed her true colours for all the people to see and talked like a gangster boss, and that scared Nagisa. From that day onwards, Nagisa vowed to avenge all her lost cheeses and make away with as much of Anko's food as she could when the time came. Then Anko would have a taste of her own medicine! For justice!

But distracted by the distant evils of the turpitudinous Anko, Nagisa failed to catch the suspicious individual skulking in the shadows stalking her movements! Little did she know about the great danger just round the figurative corner. Oh no, run Nagisa!

A slender hand slithered out from the impenetrable darkness of the eaves' drooping shadows and brushed against Nagisa's feet. Eyes widened in horror, Nagisa stopped mid-step. Cold sweat dripped down from her forehead. Her mother always told her to watch out for suspicious-looking individuals when walking alone, even in broad daylight. If she were caught, who knew what unspeakable horrors and tragedies would befall Nagisa! Then her father would follow, advising her to scream as loud as she could and run for dear life so long as her legs still functioned lest the scary-men took her and forced her to live without cheese.

Her parents had prepared her just for that day for so long. Nagisa's heart swelled with pride when she recollected all the training she put herself through, all for that rare opportunity to shine and showcase herself as an 'independent and strong' young woman to the world!

Imagine! Nagisa: the jetsetter! Nagisa of the world! Appearing in news headlines as TIME's Person of the Year: NAGISA MOMOE! The birth of an enfant terrible was approaching – her breath a minty garden-fresh wind of reform, blowing through the stagnant world of real-life heroism, setting an example of unrivalled maturity and strength for anyone the age of 10! Momoe Nagisa, the rising star of the Far East, was about to take her first step to becoming a distinguished individual, unparalleled on all fronts!

"Ei!"

Nagisa swung around and belted out a savage war cry but since it was little Ms. Nagisa who did that, it sounded much more akin to a cutesy gesture. Her eyes were clenched tightly in trepidation and her quivering thighs were tightly closed together. She took a few deep breaths in and out in a bid to dispel her fear and muster up the courage buried deep within the layers of her soul, blissfully unaware of the urgency she was met with.

"D-d-don't touch Nagisa! N-N-Nagisa is a d-dangerous young lady!"

Brave Nagisa acted first and whipped out her shining pepper spray bottle! 'Psst' it went! Pest be gone, Nagisa went in her mind.

But tragically, in a twist of fate, that clumsy girl held the bottle with the nozzle aimed at her face. 'Psst' it went right in her mouth! She let out a strange piteous wail and collapsed to the ground, writhing in pain. Thankfully, by some strange logic, Nagisa had brought along the wrong canister and she had just sprayed nothing but an innocent whiff of vanilla-scented air freshener in her face.

"Oh? It's you Nagisa-chan. You okay?"

Nagisa sniffled at the stimulation of the strong fragrance and rubbed her bleary eyes for a while, trying to make out what had happened.

When she looked over her shoulder, she saw a man dressed in tarnished black overalls sitting cross-legged beneath a small tree growing between two buildings, blocking off access to the alleyway behind. His face and shoulders was mostly covered by a ridiculously wide and flamboyant purple wickerwork sunhat that was even topped off with the bare plumage of what was most likely a sickly hybrid between a peacock and a pigeon. Was it he who had so discourteously alarmed her for no good reason? She shuffled forth in an awkward boxer's stance towards the man with caution, hands readied in front of her in preparation for a fight.

It was only when she got closer and took a peek at the strange-man's face, that she recognized the strange-man to be someone she knew.

"Ah! Ah… Beggar-sensei!"

Beggar he may have been, but his charming appearance would have fooled anyone walking down the street. Usually decked out in a casual black polo tee, jeans and a shiny pair of black Oxford shoes, no one could tell he was actually a vagrant. Even Nagisa, with her boundless perspicacity and divine eye for detail, mistook him for an ordinary Joe on their first meeting. The beggar was a very handsome beggar, and handsome by many other standards as well. To describe his physiognomy in Nagisa's own words, the beggar had "the expression of a lion, the eyes of a fish, the nose of a parrot, the whiskers of a cat and the smile of an orang-utan". Handsomeness like never before seen.

"Good morning and enough with the whole beggar-sensei thing."

Said beggar looked up to face Nagisa. That sonorous tenor voice, smoother than goat cheddar, gave the man with a zoo for a face some boyish charm that ran counter to his unusually haggard outfit.

"You're still begging?"  
"I don't beg. Do I look like a beggar to you?"

The chipped beggar's bowl in his hand gave the lie to his words. Nagisa really thought he could have reached greater heights. He could have been a wildly successful con artist, or a host maybe.

"No, but you smell like one."  
"Not at all. I'm just a wanderer and I just like to sit out in the sun; might as well earn some money while I'm at it."

He was a man of pride, dignity, and most importantly, he was an experienced contrarian ready to rebut even the most sound of arguments with befuddling inanities. Nagisa's mincing honesty did little in the way of shaking him up. He was feeling much too lazy to take a shower anyways.

"Hmm… I understand now! What are you doing now?"  
"I'm only sleeping."

He rested his head against the tree trunk and pulled his sunhat over his head, his body limply relaxing in the good morning.

"Now scram, leave me where I am."

Dismissing Nagisa with the waving motion of a fair hand, he settled down and returned to his previous position of rest.

"See you again!"  
"But before you go…" Nagisa turned around to face him once more.

He tapped his beggar's bowl twice on the cool hard earth he sat on.

"Spare some change?"

Nagisa quickly scrambled off for her destination: the café; the sound of her footsteps was drowned out by the hullabaloo of the crowd.

"What is this?"

Hearing the blunt thud resonating that sounded nothing like the chinking of coins, he raised his hat to look at his latest offering.

"W-wait! Tch."

With a sweet expression, he bit off a chunk of cheese and chewed vigorously, watching the world grow duller and minutely vaguer.

* * *

Then when Nagisa arrived at the sidewalk café, she spotted that saucy knave Anko, dining with Sayaka-nee. They were engrossed in another one of their tête-à-têtes. Nagisa was still out of earshot so she crept up stealthily to their table.

"_Hey Anko-chan!"  
"Nandesuka?"  
"What big ears you have!"  
"All the better to hear you, darling."  
"But, what big eyes you have!"  
"All the better to see you, darling."  
"Oh! But, Anko, what a terrible big mouth you have!"  
"All the better to eat you with, darling!"  
"Kya~!"_

_And scarcely had Anko said this, with one bound she leaped out of her chair and swallowed up the screaming Sayaka-nee._

Nagisa's runaway imagination was stopped when their voices became clear to her.

"I wonder if Madoka will be safe alone with Akemi Homura."  
"Oi Sayaka, what are you, her mother? Heck, even her mother wouldn't worry so senselessly."  
"I just think there's something off about their relationship."

Sayaka-nee seemed to be worried about Madoka-nee and Homura-nee. She held the rim of her glass with five fingers and idly swirled her iced tea in the air, with both her elbows resting on the table-top.

"Ain't it fine? 'sides, it's not like Homura's going to attack Madoka in her sleep or something."  
"That's what I'm worried about."  
"Eh!?"

Anko stopped her mastication in disbelief! Amazing! Anko stopped eating! She set her cheese toast down on her plate.

"It just feels like she'll force Madoka to –"  
"What? Homura's a good person 'kay."  
"And how would you know that?"

Globules of viscid golden nectarine cheese oozed out of Anko's slices of toasted bread. The juices trickled down from the bite-sized opening and floated down onto the pure white plate. Nagisa could see her glimmering reflection in the yellow drops of liquid sunshine. If she had a tail, she would have been wagging it like a helicopter rotor.

"Well the other day she treated me to lunch…"  
"Seriously, how simple-minded can you get?"  
"Wait! Wait! There's more… um… I mean you gotta have faith in your friends. What's the worst that could happen?"

'And Madoka wouldn't resist, would she?' Kyoko had a gut feeling it would be like that but she tactfully refrained from adding on to Sayaka's many vexations.

"Maybe it's just me. Let's just drop the subject for now."

Nagisa took one step closer.

"Anyways, I'll be going for a concert later in the afternoon."  
"You never told me about that."

All manner of conscious restraint deliquesced into an obscure fog of indifferentiable thought. Long ago, when a fellow asked a renowned Zen-priest how to attain enlightenment, the priest replied: "You should proceed like a cat stalking a rat." Indeed, such utter concentration on an objective is certain to bring one success. Similarly, Nagisa was fully entranced by the divine syrup seductively slithering down into a gooey pool of goodness. Her mind was filled with thoughts of nothing but the holy cheese.

"Well it slipped my mind."  
"Can I come along?"

Closer, closer, she went. So fully immersed was she in fantasizing about the river of cheese that she entered a fully meditative state. Her mind had forgotten all sense of individuality and she had merged with the object of her attention. There was no distinction. She was the cheese. The cheese was her. Thoughtless awareness, nature's dance halted to reveal the intricate clockwork machinery within. Knower became one with the known.

"Only invitees are allowed in."  
"Then what am I gonna do in the afternoon?"

Rapture overcame her and took over her legs, her arms and her eyes. She beheld the beloved, that ornament of every affair; she went off departing to heaven like the spirits of the dearly departed. The sun was put to shame by her countenance, heaven's sphere as confused as the heart. Through her glow, even water and clay became more resplendent than fire.

"Find something to do then."  
"It must be that Kyuu-kyuu… Kyuusoka! It must be that sissy-violin-man who got you in."  
"Yeah, yeah it is," Sayaka dismissively affirmed, "Kyousuke will be playing and I'm heading over with Hitomi to listen to all the performances."

She inched forward, not knowing the four directions. All that stood before her was a mere droplet of water in a vast ocean of cheese.

"I'll make it up to you some other day, alright?"  
"Anything's fine."

Chomp.

"Argh!"

Anko had her hand bitten. The silly girl was so surprised by the stimulation that her chair nearly toppled over. Why didn't she move out of the way for Nagisa? Sayaka-nee and Anko turned to Nagisa. Anko, now shoving her bitten hand into the pocket of her regular ripped denim shorts, did a slow burn.

"Can I have some?"  
"No," snarled tetchy Anko at poor Nagisa but that only made daring Nagisa more adamant to conquer Anko's cheese toast. Whatever had hungry Nagisa done to deserve such impudence from silly Anko?

It is a waste of effort to try and force those lacking any goodness in their hearts to feel a shred of sympathy for anybody or understand the brilliance of the gift of sharing. It's like pressing a shaven priest to tie his hair in a ponytail, like asking a butterfly to play the flute, like urging a plane to swim, like advising Sayaka-nee to abandon Anko, like telling Anko not to be so greedy. In short, it is exorbitant to expect men to be that which they are not. And Anko was by default, a terrible existence. No amount of sanding could smoothen out the scabrous inner surface of her conscience! No matter of whitewashing could blot out the colour of her sins!

Philistines such as Anko, creatures responsive only to the crudest of material phenomena, cannot ever hope to attain to Nagisa's level of high cognizance and subtle shades of thought and feeling. Unless Nagisa shaved her head bare and was adorned with a monk's humble robes as she chanted rites, Anko couldn't possibly conceive that she had fallen into a trance-like state of spirituality just a while ago.

Anko the curmudgeon definitely hadn't forgotten all the times when Nagisa took large portions of her food and strategically hid behind Mami, putting up a façade of guiltlessness. The bad blood running between them only strengthened with the passing of time, as Anko became more suspecting and intolerant of Nagisa. When Anko caught Nagisa looking at her eat, immediately she would stick her snout into the trough and snuffle up her slop while squealing like the starved hog she was. Come hell or high water, Anko wouldn't let a single smidgen of food out of her sight! Nagisa had to admit that for such a greedy slob like Anko, she was unusually quick-witted and nimble. She always kept her wits about her, so Nagisa found it nigh impossible to take her by surprise.

But Sayaka-nee was present. Sayaka-nee, kind soul, would definitely feed poor hungry Nagisa.

"Can Nagisa please have a bite? I'm really hungry."  
"No is no."

Verily, Anko's paranoia had reached an all-time high. Unwilling to consider what's past as past, she was overtaken by the whispering suggestions of malice in her heart. What good reason had she for not acceding to Nagisa's beseeching?

"Kyōko, just give it to her."  
"But –"  
"Ain't it fine? Here Nagisa-chan~"  
"Thank you, Sayaka-nee."

Sweet cheese, delicious cheese; how it tasted so much better to know that Sayaka-nee swiped that piece from Anko's plate.

"Oh, whatever. Here."

Naughty Anko sighed. She could only submit to Sayaka-nee's will and let Nagisa have her way.

"Thank you, Anko-nee!"  
"Anko my ass!"  
"Anko-chan, you shouldn't be so vulgar."  
"You stop your crap Sayaka!"

And just like that, all the bad blood between Anko and Nagisa became water under the bridge. Snip. Snip. Snip. Nagisa could still hear the distant snipping of the barber's scissors. Whose hair was he snipping?

* * *

Grass and herbs and flowers and trees and ferns and mosses – here and there, here and there. There, there was Nagisa.

"Ossan!"  
"Nagisa, Nagisa."

Further down the way to Mami's, Nagisa met the fireman. She knew the fireman from a long time ago. He was very sparing with his words.

"Did something happen?"

The fireman looked troubled. He was standing at an open field, looking to the sky, holding an hourglass.

"It's complicated."

He didn't seem too happy.

"Can you tell Nagisa what happened?"

After a bit of deliberation, he decided to tell Nagisa the story.

"In the wee hours of the morning, there was a man on a silver mountain." What was he seeing?

He pointed his finger up, as if the man were still there. The clouds moved slowly.

"Then?"  
"He reached the top but he wanted to go even higher." What was he thinking?

Nagisa was puzzled. How could there have been a place higher than the top? Snip.

"Did he do it?"  
"Yes, he did. None of us could stop him." What was he feeling?

It was too late for the people below to do anything.

"Why did you want to stop him?"  
"I didn't want him to do that."

"Did he do a bad thing?" Nagisa asked in earnest.

"…I'll ask him when I get there."

The fireman made a promise with Nagisa. Snip. Snip. Snip.

"I've got somewhere to go to so I'll be leaving now."  
"See you tomorrow, Ossan!"

"See you." What kind of face did he make?

What happened next was a speedy silver blur to Nagisa. Shortly after meeting the fireman, Nagisa arrived at Mami's just in time.

* * *

**Chapter IIB**

**Nagisa: The Glass Onion**

* * *

"I spy with my little eye~ something beginning with 'b'."  
"Buildings."  
"Mmhmm."

"I spy with my little eye something beginning with 'c'."  
"Cheese! Eh, uh, clouds!"  
"Yeah."

The sun was rapidly turning from a shimmering blur like a flame in brightest day to a small white circular disc, indistinguishable from the cotton candy clouds that hung like many marionettes dangling high and low from invisible strings of the firmament. Myriads of buildings stocked the roadsides as the bus travelled down its route. Nagisa was always fascinated with looking outside the window whenever she got on the bus, preferably with the windows opened so that she could feel the fresh Mitakihara air blowing into her face. She would look at a building and wonder, how many people live there? How do they lead their lives? Every window she saw was like a portal into someone else's life. It could be a kindergartener, a deadbeat salaryman, a happy family, a complete sot. It could be anyone! Every window she saw represented a life, or more. And in the many, many windows she saw on the bus ride, there too were just as many people, if not more. Each one of them had a mother and a father. Then their mothers had parents and their fathers had parents. Each one of them had 24 hours in a day. Nagisa wondered what they did in those 24 hours. Who were they with? Where did they go? To imagine a stranger living his life, biding his time with the people he knows, laughing and crying and smiling and frowning until he sleeps, always overwhelmed Nagisa. It was too much for Nagisa's mental faculties to comprehend. That everyone was alive. What kind of mind would it take to come to terms with that? That every man you see is essentially alive, when people normally treat those who do not concern them as equally as the doormat of their neighbour's house?

It was like she was looking into a glass onion and peeling back the delicate fabrics of reality layer by layer, revealing the essence within. Her heart burst out in jocose merriment. How lucky she was, to get to know all those funny people whose hearts still beat! Often they say that the deepest feelings are the hardest to convey, and Nagisa had to agree. How was she to communicate this joyous acknowledgement of life's vicissitudes to others? Mami-nee vaguely understood where she was coming from, but would refrain from looking out into windows. She said that when she saw other people, she would see herself in them. When Nagisa heard that, all she could do was cock her head to show incomprehension whereupon Mami-nee would ruffle her hair affectionately and tell her, "You're such a smart girl. You'll understand when you grow up."

The bus would accelerate once it got onto the highway and when in the hands of a select few bus drivers, it would go so fast that all the buildings and all the grass and all the sky would blend together in a kaleidoscopic potpourri of colour and shooting silver. Fortunately, the bus she was on was driven by a relatively tame individual so the ride was rather smooth but slow. Furthermore, she was on the open-air second storey of a double-decker bus so she could feel the sun and the carefree winds in her hair, her neck and her hands. The bus's speakers were blaring out a classical piece, Béla Bartók's Allegro Barbaro. The jagged and wild dynamics of the composition did strangely well to pair up with the relaxed mood of the bus ride. Going along the wild and unpredictable music, Nagisa tapped her feet to the melody.

"I spy with my little eye something that starts with 'l'."  
"Leaf."  
"Okay."

To pass the time, Mami-nee and Nagisa were playing a tepid game of 'I Spy'. From the looks of it, they were competing on who could come up with most mundane and obvious of guesses.

The world, on a moving bus, was a strange world indeed. Perhaps it was a world hidden in the normal world. In the weird world, the skies were painted in pastel and ink colours of autumn hues of browns and yellows. The trees once so clear, became the stuff of watercolour and acrylic paint on canvas. Shutter after shutter, the world was being painted and repainted, layer after layer.

"Ne, Mami-nee, where's the stuff?"  
"I left it with the man there the day before yesterday so we'll collect it when we get there."  
"Mm."

How long had it been since she visited her Nana? It must have been really, really long. Mami proposed to go with her out of convenience; she had relatives to visit there too. They would go to find her Nana first, and then Mami would take her along to where she was going.

"I spy with my little eye something that starts with 'n'."  
"Nothing."  
"Can you actually see nothing though…"

The pace of the game was fast deflating as expected.

"Who are you going to visit there, Mami-nee?"  
"Just some relatives."  
"And you? Just your Nana?"  
"Just my Nana."

No words were exchanged beyond that. Nagisa felt quite tired so she rested her head on Mami's lap.

'_Half of what I say is meaningless, but I say it just to reach you.'_

The music segued into the Beatles's 'Julia'. Clearly the driver was playing his own customized mix of music for passengers to hear. Who was the driver anyways? The song hijacked the atmosphere on the bus and Nagisa started feeling a little sentimental and sleepy. It hadn't even been long since they got on, or so it seemed. It was hard to keep track of time when Nagisa was on a vehicle.

She'd never seen the driver before. Had they gotten a new one? And it was so soon after they hired the retiree who lived down the street. When they got on, Nagisa noticed the driver's visage was mostly obscured by long jet-black hair.

"It'll be two hundred and fifty yen for both children and adults."

It was obviously a female driver. When had they gotten a new female driver? Nagisa hadn't taken the bus to Kazamino for only a couple of weeks, but she guessed that the world changed pretty quickly. All she noticed before she went up to the upper deck was her black lizard earring and carmine lipstick. It didn't matter to her though. Shaking off any remaining thoughts of the mysterious driver, she started thinking about what she was going to say to Nana.

"Mami-nee?"  
"Hm?"

Mami-nee stroked Nagisa's lengthy flaxen hair, eyes slightly narrowed to create an expression of pained affection, revealing the bittersweet feelings Mami-nee held for the visit. Nagisa never probed deeply about Mami-nee's family before. All she knew was that Mami-nee lived by herself in that maisonette that was clearly too large for Mami-nee alone to live in. Sometimes she looked so lonesome in that fully-furnished, well-decorated house. The homely warm atmosphere about it was so very beckoning and comforting, but that only made it feel all the more empty at times. It always looked like someone else lived there as well.

Then Nagisa thought to herself, where were Mami-nee's parents? Did she even have parents? What if she was one of those people who magically poofed into existence from the realm of consciousness? Somewhere in Nagisa's mind, a great switch of reasoning flipped. There was a heavenly resounding gong of her mental bell and Nagisa came to stumble on the only logical and sound explanation for the mystery of Mami-nee.

Mami-nee never talked about her parents and she also wasn't staying with anyone. She hardly ever broached the subject of her relatives. Therefore, Mami-nee must have been very detached from them. It's only natural that it would be so. Why would Mami-nee keep silent about people she was fond of? Nagisa could go on and on about people she was close to any time of day. So Mami-nee must not have been close to her family. If she was not close to her family, then it would be perfectly reasonable for her not to live with them. That long but faultless chain of logic lead to but one conclusion. Mami-nee was an independent woman.

Nagisa wanted very much to ask Mami-nee about what transpired between her and her family and listen to her life story and that bus ride was if anything, a good time to converse on such matters. After all, they were heading over to Kazamino to visit family.

"What's the day today?"

The new blue leather seats squeaked when Nagisa squirmed around to find a comfortable position to lie in. That wasn't her original question.

"Saturday."

But she wasn't looking for an answer either way.

"I spy with my little eye something black."  
"Sky."  
"Yeah."

"I spy with my little eye something that looks like cheese."  
"Hmm… what is it?"  
"It's you!"

Well, whatever got Mami-nee through the night, it's alright.

* * *

"Stopping at Kazamino Graveyard."

The bus driver announced the stop without inflection.

"Come on Nagisa."

Mami held Nagisa's hand as they stepped out of the bus. Nagisa held Mami's hands tightly, and as too did Mami. Under the foliage of many a tall bamboo tree, they ascended the long white stone flight of steps. The wooden railings and traditional Japanese balustrade were coated a bright scarlet hue, sharply contrasting with the trees all around. Greenness drooped, dripped and swayed from every branch, twig and fern in the surging luxuriance of midday, and red pierced the scenery like a dagger thrust into a person's body. Light fell sparsely on the stairs, through the umbrella of leaves above.

When they arrived at the top, two stubby _kasuga-dōrō_ greeted them at each side but the duo cared not for any distractions and headed straight for the undertaker's office to retrieve their belongings.

"Again, a day without business," the undertaker drew a heavy sigh, "though maybe that is for the better."

Mami and Nagisa were unsure how to respond to the sensitive statement so they thanked him and excused themselves, making a hasty retreat.

It was already getting dark when they reached the Tomoe family grave.

"I'll help to burn the incense sticks!" Nagisa beamed at Mami with her broadest smile when she said that. Nagisa liked grave visits. Imagine all the fun you got to have with the person when he was alive. Then after that, you could still visit his grave to drop off flowers and pay respects, as if he were still around. She'd been to the Kazamino Graveyard before. Like before, there were long and winding rows of sleek black gravestones with many names inscribed on each one. The rising smoke of incense made the gravestones look like smoking gun muzzle pointing out from the earth

It was a lively place a few months ago. She could still remember: two grizzled suited men were drunkenly blabbing away in front of a grave, talking about good old times when they tried to test each other's strength by seeing who could topple a gravestone first. Then they drank the ceremonial wine they had offered in the cherished name of their dearly departed and they started using the burning incense paper in the censer to barbeque some meats they took from home and vegetables they plucked in the hillside. Obviously they already had it in mind a long time ago to make that grave visit a festive one. When the undertaker picked up on the scent, he himself took to the scene of the furtive barbeque fully prepared to mete out punishment.

And he sat himself down and started drinking and eating and complaining about his life too with the other two geezers! They had a roaring good time. Nagisa and most of the other visitors grouped round the makeshift barbeque pit with their food offerings and threw an impromptu party! The generous undertaker, who sat closest to the fire, would choke up in tears from time to time because of the malodorous smoke of the incense paper. The two men who instigated the event got up and announced to the others that they'd be performing one of Chikamatsu Monzaemon's plays: The Love Suicides at Amijima. Even Nagisa joined in! The undertaker played the part of the courtesan excellently, but his delivery of the woman's sugary dialogue through his bushy male moustache was very queer to watch and made some laugh hysterically. Nagisa herself acted as the brother of the lead but since she was unversed with the play and had to take directions from one of the suited men, she fumbled a lot and had to improvise her own lines. Luckily, her drunken state made her acting extremely convincing.

"Y-You have done very well, Jihei! Thanks to a wise brother, Koya Magoémon," Nagisa hiccupped as she spoke those lines with a long face and hunched over with flushed cheeks, slapping her chest with her hand, "has been comp-compelled to disgust hims-s-self as a too-shorded samosa and pr-pray the fool like a minor actor!"

Then a crowd began to gather from around the neighbourhood to catch the graveyard play. Everyone clapped at Nagisa's performance of Koya; she was so absorbed in the spirit of the character, displaying how drunk he was in his anger and shame to even be stumbling over his own words.

And so, huddled around the fire of the incense paper, they all ate good food with good company they hardly knew in the graveyard and sang all kinds of songs and did all kinds of silly business till the sun came up.

Looking back on the episode, Nagisa found it so very surreal to be having a barbeque in a graveyard.

Returning to the current moment, Nagisa took out a small lighter from the bag they had just retrieved and lit the ends of three red incense sticks, then handed them back to Mami. There was no flame to be seen; the incense sticks smouldered delicately and produced a greyish thread of smoke that flickered ever so constantly in the evening breeze. Unlike the distinctly sharp odour of blackish smoke from burning incense paper, the smell of burning incense sticks was very light on the senses.

Gingerly holding the sticks, barely thicker than thread, Mami bowed once before the black marble gravestone. On it were inscribed many names of family members who had come to pass before Mami. And she bowed in remembrance of them. Their happy faces, their sad faces, their angry faces – she could remember most of them. They were all lovable people.

Mami bowed twice. She bowed out of respect for them. The black marble gravestone reflected the evening sun's last cry.

Mami bowed thrice, hoping to remember her to the ones sleeping in the sand and the stars.

She set the incense sticks into the sleeping sandbox before the gravestone. It felt so long ago, like it was in a dream. That was how it always was. The past never felt very real. But the future was very rosy, so neither Mami nor Nagisa ever needed to care. Mami had already connected to life, so for what purpose would Mami cling to the dead?

Not too far away, children were running around and zigzagging between the many black gravestones.

"Hahah, can't touch me now!"  
"Argh!"

The undertaker sat in his office drinking with his buddies. They really couldn't care less.

"Damn, I could use a smoke."  
"Here."  
"You used incense paper to roll it up?"

He made the comment only in passing and smoked the cigarette.

"Nagisa, now let's head over to your Nana's."  
"Let's go! When we're done, can we have cake?"  
"Sure, I know of a nice café back in Mitakihara."

She put the bouquet of bluebells and iris down. Then Mami was done. That short but soulful time had come to an end.

* * *

Over the top of the dusty trees, there was a new moon to be seen, very pale and far away. The jasmine and sweet pea bush at the foot of the stairs to the graveyard was in full bloom, releasing its perfume in white clouds in the dark. Nagisa plucked one and, with the palm of her hand, went across the bench by the bus stop and sat there with Mami-nee. She twirled it round and round in between her fingers.

The headlights of the bus appeared by the corner, two glowing white lights: it was time to go home.

It came to a gradual halt and the two boarded the bus back home.

"It'll be two hundred and fifty yen."

The same mysterious driver was at the helms again. Ding dong, ding dong.

With the ringing of an old cast metal bell suspended from a handlebar by the side of the driver and the whirring of the engine, Nagisa and Mami set off into the silver starry night.

"Camembert! Camembert Cheesecake! Ehehe."

Moonbeams melted into Nagisa's bloodstream, coursing through her veins. They beat upon the velvet grass and revealed within it a glistening sea of green. The birds remained unstirred in their nests.

Nagisa closed her eyes to the thought of cheesecake, sleeping unaware of the faroff clarion call. Mami wordlessly viewed the night sky, engraving the pictures of the stars in her mind. Yesterday, today was tomorrow. Tomorrow, today will be yesterday.

Ring out the old, Tomoe Mami! Ring in the new, Momoe Nagisa!

The city slept. In the marketplace, the old barber shaved another customer. He hadn't touched his bonsai since morning. The strange beggar sat in a barber chair, waiting for a trim. Then the fireman rushed into the barbershop to avoid the pouring rain in Mitakihara. But in Kazamino, the weather's still clear. Snip. Snip. Snip.

So, dream sweet dreams, Nagisa. Dream sweet dreams for everyone.

* * *

.

.

.

Homura heaved a sigh and turned to look at Madoka.

"That was a great story, Homura-chan."  
"Was it?"  
"Mm, it was! You're a natural storyteller. Though I was a bit surprised you'd use Nagisa-chan and Mami-senpai for the story. Did those things really happen?"  
"Maybe. Maybe not. Are you sleepy yet?"  
"I guess so. Could you turn off the lights?"  
"Sure."  
"Well, come on. Sleep on the bed with me."  
"Should I?"  
"Oh, where else would you sleep?"

Homura lay down on the bed, facing Madoka in her pink pajamas.

"Good night Madoka."  
"Good night Homura-chan."

And she whispered in the darkness, "Good night, Nagisa. Good night, Mami."

* * *

Note: _Kasuga-dōrō_ (春日灯籠): Tall and thin stone pedestal lantern, common in shrines and temples. The umbrella is small and has either six or eight sides with the corners curving in, and the firebox is either hexagonal or square.

**A/N: ****Updated. Changed ending.**

P.S. For those who are unaware, Anko is Kyōko; it's a misreading of her kanji that arised when she was first revealed. And part A's title is a deliberate pun on Narnia: The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe. Plus, I put in a number of obvious song references.


	4. IIIA: Fragile - Handle With Care

**Chapter IIIA**

**Fragile – Handle With Care**

* * *

Day broke.

Monday morning: Madoka's unkempt bed-head hair streamed out like a peacock's flamboyantly arranged tail feathers as she lay on her bed. In her arms was a large orange bunny plushie. She yawned a great big yawn while staring at the pink ceiling and cuddled close to the plushie, pushing her face into its bosom with her eyes turning into two horizontal slits the thinness of paper. The first few buttons of her shirt were unbuttoned, revealing a sliver of flesh up to the belly, as she was accustomed to doing whenever she wore buttoned shirts to sleep since some time ago.

"Morning already," Madoka mumbled in her half-asleep state, turning to her right side and hugging the rather straight plushie in a firm, suffocating clasp. Again, she snuggled up to the bunny closer. By then, her face was already completely enveloped in warm plushie goodness. Soft, sweet-smelling, soporific plush~ Magnificent, majestic, mighty plush~ Madoka liked sleeping with her plushies, and she'd sometimes talk to them late at night too whenever the whim to do so arose.

She burrowed her way into the plushie's torso and began furiously rubbing her face all over its soft and ample breast. It wasn't the exact same degree of softness and fluidity that it was before, rather it had become more supple and springy thus giving it a very human texture, and it wasn't the same scent as her other plushies. If she had to put a word to it, her big orange not-so-fluffy plushie bunny had the faint aroma of a blooming lavender flower. Where it had gotten its delicate fragrance, Madoka knew not for her household used not even the smallest bit of lavender soap or lavender shampoo or lavender-scented air fresheners, and the Kanames did not use air fresheners for that matter. Neither was Madoka even remotely aware of how it radiated a gentle heat reminiscent to that of a person's bodily warmth, but that made it all the better to hug so Madoka minded little. Perhaps it was one of those limited-edition springtime plushies.

Her bed on that Monday morning was very free from plushies; all were stacked on the display shelves above her bed and some on her bedside nightstand. There were two yellow pillows for human heads on her bed, no more and no less. Two was the number of pillows for humans on her bed, and the number of pillows on her bed was two. Three it was not, neither was it one, excepting that having counted one, one proceeded to count two. Five was right out. Once Madoka counted the number two, being the second number, then assuredly Madoka had counted in all correctness the number of pillows for human head a-sitting on her bed. Now, Madoka had hardly only one single pillow on her bed, and more often than not the number was two. On some days, she would place one pillow for her head's a-resting and one pillow for her feet's a-resting but nowadays she put two pillows worth of head a-resting and none for her feet. Most peculiar, Madoka was. Not even the person in question knew why she so compulsively placed TWO pillows on her bed, of which one would normally end up unused and lonely throughout the night. Maybe the most conciliatory of theories is that she was subconsciously expecting for a person to plop his head down on the one extra pillow, but still it is too way-out an explanation for any well-minding reader to accept.

Worse still, Madoka tended to exhibit the same whimsical idiosyncrasy in other matters that have little bearing whatsoever on her continuing existence. Like how she always blew on her hot beverages before taking a small sip, and she would repeat the procedure as though she had the infinite patience to tolerate its tedium. It was not as if the thought of simply adding cold water to her drink hadn't ever crossed her mind, but shortly after she would remember that doing so would dilute her beverage and diluting was a big no-no in Madoka's books. Surely she could simply have made the adjustments before making the hot beverage. Surely she had the power to tweak things to her satisfaction even after making the drink. But Madoka simply blew, and she blew away happily.

In the same vein, she loved to hug her plushies. Having gone through such inconceivably rambling and seemingly superfluous discourse about the number 2 and whathaveyou, some of you readers must be wondering 'to what end is this blithering being put forth?'

Well, the whole point of this arduous but ultimately fruitful description of Madoka's strangeness is to accentuate the weirdness of human frivolities, and the point of which will soon be made clear as daylight in the next chapter. And still, Madoka continued to rub her face all over the comfortable plushie.

Then, she opened her eyes wide enough to come to her senses.

"Geh!? H-H-Homura-chan?!"

She froze.

Madoka was laying her hands all over Homura. And Homura, lying on her back, looked like she was ruffled up pretty badly.

Madoka's head had long since slipped down from her pillow and onto Homura's chest, her mouth surreptitiously pressed onto a breast and a hand curiously perched on Homura's thigh while one of her knees was positioned comfortably between Homura's thighs. Homura's lips were slightly parted, cheeks flushed a visible red tint, hands clutched close to her hips as if to stop Madoka from wreaking any more havoc, glasses on and eyes filled with discomfort and tears pooling by their ends – what had Madoka done? Homura was completely unlike her usual stoic self and looked as though she had just weathered a tropical storm. Her buttoned pyjamas, both top and bottom, were almost off, also presumably the act of Madoka. Someone could have slapped on a sticker writing 'Handle Me with Care' on the terrorized, devastated Homura to create a great situational irony. In Homura's eyes, there was a glinting shine that Madoka had scarcely witnessed. Beneath all the outward image of suffering and distress, a notorious provocative come-hither look adorned the face of Homura.

"A-a-ah-H-H-Homura! E-eh-uh-sorry!"

Madoka the klutz had forgotten that Homura slept over for Sunday as well. Homura was already close to stripped down to her birthday suit, that much was clear to Madoka. But though Madoka frantically stuttered and stammered to apologize, she had not the decency to at least remove herself of Homura's body first. In fact, in her alarm, she accidentally tried to clench her hands and ended up gripping onto Homura's mammary gland. Which mammary gland she clasped, that shall not be detailed, for it is best and most fitting to leave such subtle nuances to the splendour of human imagination.

"E-eh!? G-Gomen!"

Madoka's runaway cogitations brought her nowhere. If one were to disregard how she actually was in a state of panic, one could have construed her eyeing up and down as checking out Homura's figure and the misdirected movements of her hands as her hungrily feeling Homura up. Quickly she shot up and sat on her knees.

'_W-What do I d-d-do?'_

With her jaws hanging widely down and her hands pushed tightly to her chest, she began to fret and agonise over her doings. Had she been a little clearer in the head at the time, she would have noticed that Homura was being strangely still and silent throughout the ordeal. But in her defence, she was practically awakened to the sight of a much shaken, not stirred Homura. And if one were to liken the shaken, not stirred Homura to one of James Bond's shaken, not stirred martinis, then accordingly Madoka would be the bartender who prepared the aforementioned martini. Putting things into perspective, Madoka had 'roughed up' Homura.

'_I-I know! I-I'll ask M-Mama!'_

Such was the first and undoubtedly very reliable option that sprang to her mind. Relief streamed into her heart for a short while. As she was about to holler out "Mama!" in her delirium, she promptly noticed the absurdity in her train of thought.

'_N-no, n-no, not M-mama! Ooh, what to do, what to do, what to do? …I-I'll just ask Homura-chan!'_

…

'_Nooooo, noooo, no, no, no, no, no, aii~'_

Shaking her head vigorously in confusion, the groggy pink-haired pervert lost her balance and gave out a little squeal and fell onto Homura's chest yet again.

Poof. A strange sound escaped Homura. Homura's chest was very soft, far too soft for that matter – like the stuff of eiderdown and plastic foams.

Now, Madoka very much knew that Homura wasn't soft or filled with air to the extent that falling onto her would elicit such soft huffing. In fact, to Madoka it seemed like she had fallen onto a pillow though the pillowcase must have been one of considerable quality due to its smooth textures. Had she indeed fallen onto her plushie and simply mistaken the shape of her plushie to be that of Homura in her grogginess?

She lifted her head from the soft thing, now fully convinced that it most certainly was not a very titillating Homura-chan but rather some sort of plushie or anything of the sort. Yet when she took a good look, there was no doubt in her mind that she was looking at Homura's body. Her eyes widened a tad when she recalled Sayaka talking about bolster-like pillows with often suggestive images printed onto the pillowcases.

"I-Is this a dakimakura?"

Overcome with wonder and curiosity, she went on to feel up the pillow. Perhaps she should also have wondered: why is it on my bed? But she knew her priorities well.

'It's really smooth…"

First, her hands slid over the surface of the dakimakura in a generally skittish way. Then, after fully accepting that it was a dakimakura beside her and not Homura, Madoka was emboldened and her movements became markedly coquettish. Fingers twirling and dancing on the soft textile, they gradually moved into dangerous territory. Madoka set her sights on the image of Homura on the pillow cover. Was it printed on or inked on? With that thought plaguing her mind, she dragged her heavy hand over the image. Such was the superficial idea she was mulling over, but the true nature of it was clearly known to her. She had never seen the poised Homura poised on the brink of having her overwear come clean off while looking so hesitant and shy about it. Egged on by the excruciations of the idle interest, amidst other funny feelings which she wore like a stole over her heart, she went on to lightly press on the outline of Homura's shoulders.

'Amazing… It looks just like her…'

Having pressed, she pressed on to trace Homura's collarbone. Madoka was fully enchanted by the rare sight of a Homura exposed: not just in body but in spirit. Madoka had an intuition that Homura had a meek, shy and timid side to her, that somewhere in her soul she was really very predisposed to bashfulness and reticence; Homura: a hidden wallflower. However, Madoka found it so very hard for her imagination to contrive out the picture of Homura as a shy girl so seeing the dakimakura sporting such a 'moe' version of Homura fuelled the fire of her bottomless passion.

Madoka wanted to get closer to the dakimakura and inspect it in detail, purely from an artisan's angle. She could not see it well from its side. Consequently, if Madoka continued to hug it while lying on her side, she would be depriving herself of the rare chance to savour and scrutinise the craftsmanship of such a Homuful good. But she could see it well from the top. Consequently, Madoka decided to rest her bottom on top of the dakimakura and straddle the dakimakura between her legs as she continued to stroke it.

It goes without saying that nothing too lewd was passing through her mind, of course. Madoka was a very pure person. Similarly, so was Homura. In fact, Madoka had probably picked up some of Homura's traits during the short time knowing each other.

Madoka knew Homura as the kind of person who was much grounded in self-control and the arts of discipline.

Once, everyone was going out on a stroll and they happened to catch a glimpse of a small pole-dancing stunt through a gap between the thick curtains of a gentleman's club, whereupon Kyoko crudely remarked in the fashion of an old man "Sexy". Beating even Sayaka to the punch, Homura scathingly dissertated: "Pole-dancing was founded as an art form, and it remains an art form. It is only that the perverted mind sees what it wants to see, and the dance has conformed to the desires of its viewers. What difference is there between a person who is not in control of his bestial desires and an animal? There is none."

Homura was a strong person. Her eyes showed it. Her steps said it. Her smile spoke it. She could block out unwanted thoughts and suppress her desires if she wanted to. Homura was a strong person and Madoka was full of admiration for Homura. Something about her was very lovable. Or maybe it was just Madoka. For Madoka kept a secret. She kept a secret away from everyone else, but Homura probably knew what it was without her having to reveal it.

Whether it was cool Homura or shy Homura, whichever Homura Homura was, Homura would always be Homura to Madoka even if Homura was not the Homura Madoka expected and even if Homura was not the Homura Homura liked; because Homura was Homura and Homura to Madoka could be none other than Homura and Homura was Madoka's friend so no matter if Homura was Homura's Homura or Madoka's Homura, Homura would always be Homura to Madoka.

And unknowingly, Madoka began to caress Homura's chin on the dakimakura as if she were really there beneath her. And for some reason, she couldn't explain, a surge of sadness washed over her.

"Oh Homura-chan you…"

Knock. Knock. Knocks came immediately afterwards, interrupting her soliloquy.

"Madoka, breakfast's ready!"

"E-e-eh!? A-a-ah!"

Her Papa was right outside.

"Are you alright? I heard you scream just now."

"Y-Yes Papa!"

"Do you need me to come in?"

"I-It's alright. Nothing's wrong!"

"Ok then. Be down soon."

Footsteps faded out. That intensely tense exchange finally ended. It was a very close shave. Who knew how her father would interpret the situation if he saw Madoka straddling a Homura dakimakura… just as she was about to heave a sigh of relief –

Knock. Knock. Knocks came again.

_"Madoka, I'm coming in."_

A soft-spoken voice, muffled by only the slightest barrier of the door, breached the silence like the first arrow whistling through the sky between two warring nations that had drafted up an untrustworthy agreement to a ceasefire, cutting through the pleasant respite Madoka felt with disturbing ease like how her Papa would confidently slice and dice cucumbers and leeks.

Doorknob turned. Madoka didn't lock the door. Door swung open.

A cool draft entered the room. It was cooled by the most awkward and chilling of winds.

A cool eye met a guilty eye that was akin to that of a child who was caught for thievery.

Madoka was still on top of the dakimakura.

"H-H-Homura-chan!"

What separated Madoka and Homura was an entire wall of awkward silence and some chairs.

Her Mama taught her, if she were ever caught in an embarrassing predicament, she should act very calm and cool and react appropriately to avoid creating any misunderstandings. But her advice failed to register in Madoka's mind at that moment. For before Madoka was a perfectly peachy Homura, dressed for success in her splendid school uniform, and before Homura was a gawking Madoka, sitting atop the dakimakura.

From the looks of it, Madoka was busy fondling away at the dakimakura, immersed in her wildest fantasies, before she was rudely interrupted by the Homura by the door.

Madoka bore the expression of a dog caught red-handed taking food from the pantry, of a slave-girl of ancient Persia who fell fast-asleep in the royal bed of the Padishah and was consequently awakened by the lashings of a whip, of Gollum in the Lord of The Rings who was muttering 'precious… my precious…' as he caressed the One Ring but was unceremoniously interrupted, of a lioness fending off other lions from stealing her prey.

Her first few shirt buttons were cleanly unbuttoned and the shirt was sagging off her shoulders, giving further credence to Homura's impression that Madoka had actually been particularly aroused by the Homura below her and went on to treat herself with great gusto. Homura's face was toned a deep strawberry pink and her breath was stuck in her throat. It was truly an incriminating sight.

"So… you put the dakimakura to good use, Madoka. I should have knocked… I'm sorry…"

Out of politeness and consideration for the other party's feelings, Homura didn't look squarely into Madoka's eyes and instead she stared intently at the floor beneath her feet, like she were searching for a coin she dropped.

"…it's two-sided so... the other picture might be more to your liking and… it's peachskin fabric so it should be quite durable…"

"Ah-"

"…breakfast is almost ready… remember to come down soon…"

Door closed and awkward sound of silence echoed in the room's four walls.

Above Madoka, the columns of beady-eyed plushies stared at her mercilessly, sardonic and pitiful smiles etched onto the fabric of their faces.

"Mou…" She fell down on top of the dakimakura.

"Kyuu~"

Kyuubey hopped down from the display shelf where he slept and lay himself on Madoka's back in the like of the Sphinx.

Madoka was quite bad with mornings, it seemed.

* * *

Snip. Snip. Snip.

"Ohaiyou, Papa."

Her Papa was kneeling down on one knee, harvesting cherry tomatoes from the garden. Madoka, having gotten over her shock, went down to greet him.

"Ohaiyou, Madoka."

A cherry tomato had its stalk snipped and it tumbled down into the garden basket below.

Her Papa turned to greet her and smiled. The grass was still green even in the middle of autumn. The scissors in his hands gleamed in his hands.

"Where's Mama?"  
"Tatsuya went to wake her up. Mind giving him a hand?"  
"Hai~"

And when her Papa's eyes followed her waltzing figure, he could not help but give a half-smile.

* * *

"Mama! Mama! Morning! Moorniing! Mama! Mamaaa!"

Madoka slammed the door wide open, bringing some light into the dim room. Tatsuya continued to beat his fists upon Junko's back in his attempt to wake her up. It never did come to any effect since Madoka was always there to draw the curtains but it had already become regularity in the life of Tatsuya. He'd never fail to rise up to the task and take on the mission.

With determined footsteps, Madoka strode to the curtains and she drew them wide and open.

"Rise and shine!" Madoka hollered and to accompany that, she whipped the blanket covering Junko off her.

Somewhat unfortunately for Kaname Junko, the previous night she tossed and she turned and she curled up in many fashions, so the blanket wrapped around her body multiple times like a cocoon would encapsulate an insect larva. This unconscious action of hers left her husband very much blanket-less and in his blanket-less state he had little choice but to evacuate from the comforts of the bed and retrieve another blanket from the closet to cover up his blanket-less self. Thus there were two blankets on the bed that night.

To digress a tad, continuing the story of the slave-girl who had slept on the Padishah's bed and was consequently met with a rude awakening by the lashings of a whip: the religious slave-girl got up in terror, and cried aloud, but it all ended in a smile. Her smile created more curiosity in the minds of the king and queen than her fault had done. They asked what made her smile. She said, 'I smiled at the thought that the comfort and joy of this bed gave me an inclination to experience its pleasure for a moment, the penalty of which is given me as these blows, and I wonder, as you have experienced the pleasure of this comfortable bed all your life, what penalty you will have to pay for this to God, the King of all kings.'

Such was the illuminating insight that had come to the slave-girl, that every little pleasure in life must have its cost. And just as what the slave-girl had revealed to the Padishah, it was, is, and will always be incontrovertible that Kaname Junko's pleasant time under the wraps of the rolled blanket was to end with an equivalent measure of discomfort.

And the catastrophic whipping off of the blanket was amplified in its horror because it was folded and rolled into a long, thin pillar wrapping around Junko's body. Such was the measure of her torment meted out by an unwitting Madoka, her own daughter! She was flipped and spun in multiple horrible rounds. Quite luckily for her, she did not drink too much on Sunday's night and thus was not suffering the effects of a hangover when she was being tossed and turned like dough in a baker's hands.

"Ueeee!"

Junko rolled off the edge of the bed and fell on her bottom. Madoka must have inherited her 'bad-with-mornings' trait from her mother. It probably ran in the family.

* * *

Clearest water cascaded wonderfully from the grand heights of the tap all the way down to the depths of the wash basin and into the squiggly abyss of the drain. The washroom was very bright and filled. Its walls were filled with irregularly tiled square panels, some placed behind others, reflecting different images of greenery from the yard.

Madoka brushed her teeth. She held her pink toothbrush. It was getting old, but she had replacements.

"So what's been going on lately?"

Her hair grew longer each passing day. It had streamed down past her shoulders already. Maybe it was about time to go to the barber's for a trim.

"Hitomi-chan's easing into her relationship right now. She said things are much smoother though they aren't as active as they used to be but she doesn't mind."

"Mm, if they're going at it at their own pace then they should be fine .Tell her, "Don't hurry. Take your time." Kamijou-kun's not going anywhere."

Madoka washed her face. She couldn't reach the towel with her eyes closed.

"Here."

Junko slid the towel closer to Madoka. Madoka promptly dried her face. The silver ring on her left hand's middle finger was never dampened.

"Saotome-sensei's at it again. She's met up with someone from an online dating site."  
"Online dating site? Then she'd better be careful. Things aren't always what they appear to be."

Junko applied some lipstick before continuing.

"But then again, if she doesn't put the pedal to the metal she'll be getting out of marriageable age."

Madoka brushed her long hair.

"How old is she anyways? She still looks pretty young."  
"Madoka, a lady's age is a woman's secret."

She set her lipstick down and struck a pose, proving that she was looking as glamorous as she always did.

Kyuubey simmered in a tub of hot water.

"Alright."

Junko closed her makeup kit and left the washroom, professional-looking and all save for the flip-flops.

Madoka continued to brush her long hair. It grew longer each passing day.

'Maybe it's time to get a haircut.'

But Madoka didn't have the nerve to make the final cut.

* * *

"Aan…"

Kyuubey prowled around the kitchen. Light of whitest day spilled forth through the windows.

"Oh!"

Tatsuya's blunted kiddie's fork couldn't pierce through the cherry tomato and instead caused it to roll off his plate. Junko reached out just in time to catch it with her toast. The tomato went back onto the plate.

"Safe~ Be sure to eat it all up."  
"'ay!"

Tomohisa addressed Junko, "Do you want another cup of coffee?"  
"Nope, it's fine."

Minding the time, she drank her coffee and got up.

A peck on the cheek for Tatsuya, a kiss on the lips for Tomohisa, and a high-five for Madoka and Homura.

"Then, I'm off!"  
"Bye!" everyone went.

"Madoka."

Homura called out to Madoka. They had not talked since the dakimakura fiasco.

"H-Homura-chan?"

Madoka still felt awkward about the matter, but she wasn't all too sure how she would go about clarifying the incident.

"…if you like the dakimakura, you can keep it…"

In one sentence, Madoka's plans of explaining the situation with the dakimakura were wrecked in one fell swoop.

"N-no, no, it's okay-"  
"It was meant to be a gift from the start so you can just keep it. Unless it inconveniences you in any way…"  
"No, Homura-chan, I, uh, I like it very much."

"I see."

Homura finished her breakfast. She walked towards the entrance.

"Come now. You should hurry; we're running late."

"Eh? Ah!"

Jamming one last piece of toast with jam into her mouth, Madoka got up and left.

"See you later!"  
"Thank you for having me."

"Bye!"

And so, Madoka and Homura made their way to school. Many times, Madoka walked the length of road from her home to the stream close to school alone. But now, Homura was by her side.

Kyuubey caught up to them and nestled himself on Homura's right shoulder, perching himself like the owl of Minerva. His wide blood-ruby eyes bore deep and never blinked. Verily, it was a fitting accessory for the goddess of wisdom and warfare, Minerva.

* * *

**A/N:** Part 1 of 4-part quartet that eagerly asks to be cut down to a triplet.

Next Chapter:

**Chapter IIIB**

**Handle With Care  
**

"Miki Sayaka, have you forgotten already? Or is it that in your heart, you have never wanted to take me for an enemy?"  
"Neither. I'll never forget that you, Akemi Homura, are a demon."  
"Then let me ask you, why are you doing this?"  
"I'm fighting for what's right."  
"Is that so?"


	5. IIIB: Handle With Care

**A/N:** This is Part 2 of 3 of the original 'Handle With Care' chapter. Well, I released it before Monday at least. Do keep in mind this is still my first fanfic and that I'm still learning the ropes, so don't expect a masterpiece; I only do what I can. As I was writing this, I suddenly came up with so many ideas for a fic. Oh well. And I know Saotome teaches English, but just let it slide for now. **Updated missing line breaks. Updated again: some grammar and missing words (but don't expect it to be clean).**

* * *

"_Miki Sayaka," and Akemi Homura spoke her name._

* * *

**Chapter IIIB**

* * *

_The forest of openwork pinnacles and spires reaching on the roof shimmered for a moment before the sun had completely gone down the hills. The bronze statue of the Virgin Mary, a new instalment to the school's amply remarkable architecture made to resemble the Madoninna, slowly lost its lustre as the golden light waned. Her staff pointed vertically upwards, towards the sky._

"_Have you forgotten already?"_

_The light soon closed down on her. The sun was down._

_Akemi Homura's left eye stared straight through Sayaka. Still and unwavering, it pierced with an unnerving edge. When had Akemi Homura changed to become this? Sayaka did not know._

"_Or is it that,"_

_Her words came slowly. Blood-red splattered on the ground through the quatrefoils on the walls, filling the empty spaces not occupied by the looming grand shadows of the rooftop's spires. On the spacious rooftop, there was a speckled marble round table and two seats. No one was around that day but still it shone glaringly under the sun, giving Sayaka the impression of an everyday warmth. It reflected the supple light, staining everything in a crimson palette. It was almost as though Sayaka were not alone on the rooftop. But she was. At least, she was the only thing human there._

"_You have never wanted to take me for an enemy?"_

_Homura stood in front of the rectangular stone platform at the centre of the rooftop. Then the school was draped in a light hue of orange-blue._

"_Neither," Sayaka replied._

_Her brass-plated 'fortissimo' hairclip reflected writhing and trashing waves of sunlight sparkle drowning in an orange sea. The ring on her left hand's middle finger twinkled. Murders of crows zipped past, creating a temporary black rift in the heavens._

"_I'll never forget that you, Akemi Homura, are a demon,"_

_Akemi Homura's black lizard earrings were momentarily exposed from within her long raven hair by a mild zephyr. Their hanging purple prismatic gems revolved round and round about their locus, shooting out beams of dispersed light rays. Split up into their various polarisations, a faint rainbow spectrum coated whatever it fell on as the jewels rotated in its irregular orbit._

"_Then let me ask you, why are you doing this?"_

_The clouds so bright, the birds making their flight – _

"_I'm fighting for what's right."_

_From the corner of her eye, she thought she saw the Madoninna frown._

"_Is that so?"_

_Just then, Akemi Homura looked up to the sky. On days like those, where the clouds loomed sleepily overhead and all the sky, more vague and distant that it normally felt, Miki Sayaka felt disturbingly calm. It almost seemed too good to be true. Maybe it was. Time slowed to a crawl._

* * *

_An invisible bird flew over but quickly cast a shadow. _And that was the dream Sayaka had on Sunday's night.

* * *

Underneath the freshening foliage of zelkova and pine trees, autumn's browning draped the entirety of the footpath with litters and splatters of amber and evergreen leaves. From time to time, a westward gale would sweep by and drag the leaves along the coarse ground though some would tarry a bit and stubbornly remain on the straight path by sticking themselves onto the rubber souls of unwitting travellers. A ladybird would occasionally peek its red with speckled white shell out of its leafy mantle before buzzing off into the greenery, or as the times appropriate it: the brown-ery.

But winter would soon be arriving, searing everything with icy sheets of white.

The dense vegetation normally housed grottos of untold relaxations and in such profusion of greenness, the depths of which of were not known to many a student, the footpath was made to seem as a mere crossing path between the two forests and the straight path paled greatly in comparison to the greens for any venturous spirit worth his salt. However, that was only when light scarcely permeated the forest ground and as a result, shrouded the area and its inhabitants in secrecy. On a whim of nature, every year fall would fall onto Mitakihara soil and like a disease as contagious as leprosy, autumn would diffuse first into the leaves of trees turning most of them a ghastly brown before making its way down the trunk and finally seeping out to the soil where fallen leaves would decompose and restore the constitution of carbonic matter and nutrients to the soil.

Such was the trademark of autumn: transmogrification; it was both a picaresque picture-book dream and an epitaph for the year's dealings. At that time of year, most people would be too preoccupied watching the falling leaves to realize that the sorrows and sentimentalities that gush out from their hearts are so utterly narrow-minded and short-sighted. In their lamentation for what has gone by, they fail to see, they fail to understand, and they fail to comprehend one very simple fact: there is still a future. Their despair is completely irrational, completely illogical and completely uncalled for.

What an irony it would be for passers-by to fall into a pit of self-induced sadness upon seeing the autumn phenomenon, when the evergreen pine trees still stood proud and tall in all their greenness. The forest in autumn had shed most of its leaves so the canopy was left pretty bare, allowing for more light to cast its shadow upon the autumn grounds. Seeing the forest in, quite literally, a new light revealed it to be quite a small patch of land – hardly anything to be called a forest. But the forest, per se, had a very forest-like feeling to it so perhaps the essence of its spirit would warrant it to be dubbed 'forest'.

Fall, a time of hope and housekeeping, was underway. Sadly, while hope was running high for Sayaka, housekeeping was an entirely different matter altogether. Kyoko had a nasty tendency to snack in the bedroom, leaving behind a trail of bits and crumbles whenever she ate. If Sayaka ever skimped on sweeping for a day, ants would begin to show up and proliferate in her bedroom.

Now, with Kyoko as a de facto roommate, her room was undergoing drastic changes with the falling of the days, as was her life. At times, when she woke up she'd briefly think to herself: 'Whose room is this?' And then she'd remember: 'It's mine.'

But it certainly didn't look the part. Where there used to be a quaint obsolete softwood display cabinet, there was now a large and wide mahogany shelf. It was in no part bad; the display cabinet was lacquered in a strange way such that it had a tendency to collect dust and its perpetual state of emptiness, marking her lack of achievement, was also an eyesore to Sayaka whereas Kyoko's shelf was stocked with books of all sorts: novels, encyclopaedias, dictionaries, books written in exotic languages and more.

Then there was the bed. It was a comfortable bed, but they had a major falling out once because of the damned bed.

"This bed's too soft," Kyoko once remarked, "Make it harder."

Her impossible request was on par with those of Kaguya-hime's in the classic of The Tale of the Bamboo Cutter. Perhaps Kyoko could throw in a few more ridiculous demands, like 'Gather fresh milk of a three humped she-camel native to the distant lands of Arabia before midnight!' or 'Turn stone into bread!'

All these were improbable to accomplish but if Sayaka gave her life to the ignoble cause, perhaps she'd stand a small chance at succeeding. What was more impossible, and hilariously so, was to cure Kyoko of her idiocy (and maybe her glowing confidence in Sayaka's abilities). How the hell would Sayaka, of all people, make the bed harder? Faced with such a problematic request, that came all too out-of-the-blue, Sayaka could not help but put on a demeanour of shock and exasperation.

"Kyoko, what the fuck!?"

The line she spake was a line befitting of Kyoko. Indeed, it was one of Kyoko's little idiosyncrasies she had adopted in the time they spent together. Her 'what the fuck' was spoken with untold fervour and wild passion, reserved for Kyoko only.

"Harder!" Kyoko ardently shouted.

"Ngah," Sayaka moaned. She really couldn't get her feelings through to the girl.

"Can you stop doing this to me?!"  
"Doing what?"  
"Doing this! You're shooting your mouth left and right, complaining about every damned thing as if you live here!"

The ends of Kyoko's lips were a tiny bit downturned.

"Well hey, look here missy," putting her bar of chocolate down on the bed and thereby dirtying the bed-sheets, she stood up, folded her arms, and with one finger pointing upwards making lazy circles in the air, she continued with a didactic tone, "I'm just giving you some valuable advice. If you can't appreciate the value of it, then I suggest you do a bit of self-reflection."

"Advice my ass! First you ask me to change the lighting. So I changed it! Then you ask me to buy a nice executive chair," Sayaka was red to the ears and she slapped said nice executive chair that she was standing next to, "So I did!"

"Then you ask me to get a carpet. And I did! Do you have any freaking idea how bloody difficult it is to get those potato chip crumbles off of them?! And then you ask me to change the television! That's not even mine! It's my family's TV! And when I refuse, what do you do? You run and knock on my parents' door and plead them to get a new TV when we just bought one three days ago! And guess what? They did! You might as well ask for my hand in marriage now and an outrageous sum of dowry!" Sayaka so proposed.

"Nag, nag, nag, is that your hobby or something?"

Kyoko was fully riled up and put her hands to her hips, adopting a formal and learned tone to sound more sophisticated.

"Do you derive some sort of sick sadistic psychopathic pleasure from it? Do you think I have some kind of masochistic penchant for tolerating this? Don't forget, I'm the one stocking the fridge with snacks that you eat!"

"Who buys it? I do! And I buy it for you, and no one but you! I asked you not to steal from others, but I didn't ask you to mooch off me! Heck, this has practically become your room! You know, less than half the stuff here is mine. Look at this," she stomped to the closet, opened it with a wild swing, and waved a pair of ripped denim shorts in the air, "These used to be long jeans! You even mistook my jeans for yours and you went and ripped them! Look! Even now, you're dirtying the god-damned bed!"

"Hey! Stop blaming it all on me! You wear my stuff too you know! In the first place, I was talking only about your damned bed! Your damned bed sucks! It's too freaking soft! I'd rather sleep on the floor!"

Having had enough of her, Sayaka threw down the crumpled ex-jeans in a blend of frustration and anger.

"Well if you hate it that much, then you can just sleep on the floor all you like!"

Following the heated outburst, Kyoko stormed out of Sayaka's room and slept right outside her door. It was a smart move on her part, really. She knew just how to make Sayaka change her mind. When Sayaka opened the door the next morning, her heart was greatly swayed by the sudden sight of a pitiful Kyoko lying on the cold hard floor, looking like a destitute church mouse dressed in rags which provided little warmth to tide over the night. After several days of seeing Kyoko in such a sob state, Sayaka finally relented and bought a firmer mattress. Kyoko loved it.

As they were making the purchase, Sayaka realized she was being manipulated and so sarcastically commented, "At this point, we might as well just buy the bedframe too. Then you get to sleep on your own bed and call it your room too."

And did Kyoko have a wonderful comeback for that, "No! I like to sleep with you. You're nice to hug and sleep with."

Sayaka blushed a little, until she heard what followed: "What with all that arm and belly fat, you retain a lot of heat so I sleep nice and warm!"

Upon doing some intelligent reflection over the happenings as she waited with Kyoko and Hitomi, she couldn't help but think that Kyoko would do well at scamming people, exploiting their kindness and tugging at their heartstrings.

"Ohaiyou!"

Sayaka's bubble of little reveries was popped by a sharp and distinctly pink-haired voice. Turning her head, she saw that Madoka was dashing, in both senses of the word. Occasionally Madoka would step onto a fallen leaf as she ran. Some would crinkle dryly beneath her feet and others, the more slippery ones, would cause her to lose traction and almost fall. After gobbling down what was left of her half-eaten toast, she hollered out her morning greetings to the band of girls.

Her pink hair bobbed about as she ran towards the waiting girls.

"Ohaiyou, Madoka."

Shizuki Hitomi exchanged courtesies with Madoka. Her seaweed-green hair matched well with the backdrop of green and orange-leaved trees. Lately, her hair had also begun to grow in a seaweed-like fashion. Should Kyousuke have taken a lock of Hitomi's hair into his hands, he would find that they were predisposed to be wavy of shape much like underwater algae. But Kyousuke wouldn't have known that. He hadn't touched her hands, much less her hair, for quite some time since they started dating.

In the beginning, Hitomi was positively frustrated by the lack of any developments but over time she attuned herself to the emotionally dense Kyousuke's casual pace and learnt to live life slowly. Truly it was one of Kyousuke's distinguishing traits, apart from being a sissy-violin-man as Kyoko so honourably dubbed, that no matter how packed his schedule was or how little time he could afford to spare for Hitomi, he would always take things in his own time. That was something very admirable about the sissy-violin-man. Hitomi was also a very busy ojou-chan but she was always carried away by the fast tempo of her life, thus influencing the sincere and fundamentally good-natured girl to be more irritable than her nature would have called for her to be. To use time signatures as an analogy, if Kyousuke was playing in common time then Hitomi was an accompanying piece erroneously played in 29/16 time. Insofar as their personalities and some little forces of habit clashed, they were actually quite a complementary pair excepting the occasional lovers' spat.

Lately, she'd been meeting up with the girls on the mornings when Kyousuke wasn't available.

"Madoka, you're late."

Kyoko was still chewing at her taiyaki when she said that. Madoka briefly wondered whose pocket paid for Kyoko's morning snacks. For every day, she would see without fail Kyoko biting on something, anything. Madoka recently saw Kyoko munch on: apples, umaibo, popsicles, sweet potatoes, butter crackers and a meat bun. Some time ago, when she was hungry late at night and hadn't any food to eat, she went and gnawed on Sayaka's collarbone. Sayaka would never forget how that episode ended.

It was a mystery why she loved to eat so much. She wasn't even that hungry half the time. But an even greater mystery was how Kyoko and Sayaka had met in the first place. Kyoko would answer, "Strange, I don't really remember. I bet we met in an alleyway – or was it in the convenience store?"

She spent most of her time with Sayaka, the extent of which once prompted Sayaka to comment, "Don't you ever get tired of me?" which was followed by Kyoko's witty riposte, "Yes I do, but you'll never leave me and you know it's true."

Then with a grin, she said: "'cause you like me too much, and I like you!"

"So how was your Sunday?"

Sayaka enquired about Madoka about her day, with a smile on her face.

Kyoko's hair was a crimson red – redder than the falling zelkova leaves. Hitomi's hair was a forest green – blending into the evergreen pine tree leaves. Sayaka's hair was a baby blue – the same colour as the morning sky. Madoka though – she didn't really belong in the elements of the sky and the sod. At last, the group of four had gathered together.

Madoka took the first step forward and they departed for school.

* * *

"And y'know Madoka, you've been getting a whole lotta attention lately."

The group passed by several places familiar to them. The small little details in the scenery kept on changing as they ambled on to school. On some rare days when Sayaka walked the road alone, she would take the time to pause and admire the scenery, and how it changed with the passing of time. It was probably the influence of her learning to listen to and discern between classical pieces. The time she spent with Kyousuke made her more aware of the subtleties in life, and when she found out he started dating Hitomi, though she was a trifle devastated, it only reaffirmed her appreciation of the time she had with everybody. If there was one thing that Kyousuke taught her, it was that change is the nature of all things impermanent. It was a hard lesson to learn, but one she learnt well.

Madoka transferred back into Mitakihara from the States almost seamlessly. Kyoko entered her life very abruptly, but settled in snugly in time. To Sayaka, the present moment always was the most natural point of time for her. It was hard for her to picture both past and future – if they even existed beyond mere comparative concepts. At least she had the time right now, a precious time – one that she'd seek to prolong as long as fate would allow.

Madoka was walking at the very back, followed by Sayaka and Hitomi a short distance in front, and Kyoko led the way walking backwards.

"Eh? No, it can't be."

A white paper plane whistled past Madoka's ear, only to land itself in the shrubbery up ahead.

"Haha, I saw you walking with another girl yesterday. Don't tell me…"

Nameless voices drifted on and away in a sea of stranger friendly faces.

"It's true. Our classmates are all talking about how gentle and kind you are."  
"Madoka's going to be receiving love letters soon at this rate. Ah~ My waifu is going to be swept off her feet by her Prince Charming!"

Hitomi and Sayaka chimed in with comments of their own.

"Or maybe it's gonna be some stinking old man with a long hairy moustache waiting to sweep her off her feet and into the back of the van," Kyoko sniggered and snidely remarked.

"No, no, that'd be unlikely to happen. I mean, I'm the kind of person people tend to forget after a while aren't I?"

Madoka said so with a shy look and a wistful smile on her face. She was always a very modest person, Sayaka could still remember that. People forget, and Sayaka was particularly forgetful when it came to certain things. What were they? Well she wouldn't be called forgetful if she remembered, now would she?

Kyoko went ahead and bent down to pick up the white paper plane.

"Nonsense, Madoka. Look at what I found," reading the contents of the paper, she addressed the lot of them.

Kyoko spun on her heels to face the group, and all three stopped to hear what Kyoko had to say. After clearing her throat and batting her eyelashes a couple times, she began reciting.

"To Kaname Madoka," Kyoko read out the line with the airs of giving an imperial decree.

"Oh~ It's got to be a love letter! Madoka, today's your lucky day!"  
"E, eh?!"  
"Kyoko hasn't even mentioned the contents yet. Let her continue."

"_Will you please meet me alone at the school rooftop at 1800?"_

With that, Kyoko handed the paper of mysterious origins to its intended recipient.

"Suspicious," Kyoko ringed, "am I right?"

Hitomi quickly followed up with something more positive.

"Well, it isn't exactly a love letter but it's a possible confession."

"Mou, now I'm probably the only person here who doesn't have any romance in her life."  
"Cheer up Sayaka, I'm in the same moat with you."  
"Kyoko, don't talk when you're eating. And did you forget, you received three just a few weeks ago…"  
"Did I?"

Hitomi answered Kyoko's query.

"If I remembered correctly, I think you ate the confession slip hidden in the baked bread."  
"Oh yeah! Man, that was delicious bread!"  
"Then the one in the chocolates… and the love letter written on the log cake," Sayaka listed on. It was a great pity for Kyoko's admirers to have hidden their messages in, of all things, food. Kyoko was reputed for being a big eater. So while it was reasonable for them to have thought of such ideas, they were clearly efforts in vanity.

"Yeah, I remember now! Haha, I didn't even know they were there until Sayaka said she saw something strange in my mouth."

Then Kyoko strode towards Sayaka and clapped both her hands on Sayaka's shoulders.

"But don't worry Sayaka! I'm always here for you. Sayaka is my waif!"  
"Hey, what do you think you're doing – ahh, hey Kyoko let me down!"

Kyoko bent downwards and hoisted Sayaka up, slinging Sayaka over her shoulder by the hip like how she would carry a sack of rice. Sayaka's butt faced forward and she could feel the cool breeze brush past her thighs when Kyoko began scampering onwards.

"Kyoko! Argh, my skirt! Watch the skirt!"

Every so often, Kyoko would make a jerking hop and cause Sayaka's skirt to flutter dangerously about in the wind. Sayaka tried to hold her skirt down but she couldn't reach it in the position she was in.

"Watching it~"

Kyoko smiled and watched the skirt intently, waiting for a moment when it would completely flip over.

"That's not my point! Just let me go!"

Her skirt fluttered with the wind whenever Kyoko took a bouncing step forward. Underneath the sunny skies, Kyoko smiled like a little child. The clouds were a lovely daisy chain, and the green grass glittered with morning dew. The orange leaves shone down orange light, and the birds sang to greet the brand new day.

"Never! You're mine! Wahaha!"

The sun was up.

"L~E~T~G~O!"

The sky was blue.

"Gah! Don't kick my stomach!"

And they laughed, and they laughed, and they laughed.

"Ahem," Hitomi politely grunted, and the two stopped momentarily to look at her.

"Watch your step," she said.

They had already arrived at the school entrance.

* * *

In class, Saotome-sensei cleared her throat before starting 'classes' as per usual routine.

Saotome-sensei was a lucky person, leaving aside her romantic issues. Her class was well-behaving, polite and sensitive to the many fluctuations of Saotome-sensei's maiden heart.

Had it been a year? Perhaps it had. It had been one whole year, give or take some months, since Saotome-sensei first made her characteristic croaking noise in class. It had been one whole year, but no one dared to tell her that her clearing of her throat sounded just like the croaking of a frog. Nakazawa-kun had once, intending no harm, aptly put it as 'the sound of a goose being strangled or a duck being forcibly drowned'.

That was a very insightful remark made by Nakazawa-kun. Several of the males even banded together to research and discuss the various types of 'duck calls' Saotome-sensei used in class. The results were astonishing. They proved Nakazawa-kun's theory by superimposing a recorded track of Saotome-sensei's croaking onto the actual call of the growling grass frog, from which the phrase 'sound of a goose being strangled' came about. Comparing the moans of 'craw-ork ar-ar' to Saotome-sensei's morning rasping, almost 7 upon 10 students could not tell the difference.

With greater efforts, they also managed to differentiate between three main types of croaks corresponding to her three main moods. When she was irritated, she croaked out a half-whine like a bullfrog's call. When she was pleased, she would let out a high-pitched green tree frog croak. When she was amused, a pseudo-laughter Japanese tree frog kind of croaking could be heard. To support their study, the class had also come up with official general onomatopoeia for her capricious croaking: "hrum-hrum" with a notable "uh" sound for when she was upset, "quek-quek" with a notable "eh" sound for when she was happy, and "wjip-wjip" with a notable "ih" sound for when she was amused.

And Nakazawa-kun, bless his poor sole, was always picked out by Saotome-sensei to answer her questions on how to properly treat a lady. So far, he screwed up not once; always choosing the most broad-minded and accommodating of options to answer, he would please Saotome-sensei. His miraculous run was probably attributed to his sensible nature and good fortune. But it wouldn't be long before Saotome-sensei asked him an unanswerable question.

"Gruhm-gruhm."

A variant of the angry call was used by the specimen.

"Now, everyone – I have something very important to share with you."

All at attention.

"I'm engaged now."

"What?" someone muttered in disbelief next to Sayaka, but Nakazawa-kun started clapping for Saotome-sensei. Following his lead, everyone clapped and some even cheered.

"Contragulations, Saotome-sensei," Nakazawa-kun was pleased for her.  
"Who's the lucky guy?"  
"Where did you meet him?"  
"How?"

Hearing that Saotome-sensei had suddenly gotten engaged was a big surprise to the class, who thought that her love life was going down the drain. The lot of them became quite hyped-up and pressed Saotome-sensei to share the details. After facing a barrage of questions, Saotome-sensei fully explained everything with wit and immaculate clarity.

"Was the joke that funny?"

The atmosphere took a nosedive and the people stopped all their clapping and cheering. Saotome-sensei leaned one hand against the whiteboard and looked up at the ceiling despairingly.

Nakazawa-kun blew it big-time; he didn't see through Saotome-sensei's self-deprecating and self-pitying joke. In truth, even if he had known what it was all about, he would've been caught in a difficult dilemma: to congratulate or not to congratulate? If he did not congratulate her, then that would be tantamount to a declaration of belief that Saotome-sensei must have been joking. She would then think that Nakazawa-kun was of the belief that Saotome-sensei getting married was an unlikely and unrealistic thing to happen. But if he did congratulate her, and he did, he would only be falling right into her trap. In other words, all along Nakazawa-kun was caught between a rock and a hard place, between Scylla and Charybdis. He was ensnared in a Morton's fork, free to pick his poison, and was damned if he did and damned if he didn't.

"NAKAZAWA-KUN!" Saotome-sensei croaked vociferously.

She stood straight and firm, pointing her marker at Nakazawa-kun.

"H-Hai!" He rose to answer the coming question.  
"What's the most important thing a woman should have?!"

Sayaka, and without a doubt most of the others, was very curious to see how he'd pull off an escape from this tricky a question. Nakazawa-kun was surely a poor fellow.

"Eh, um, ah," he stammered.

Sayaka wondered how Kyousuke would reply if he were in Saotome-sensei's class. Then her mind drifted off to Kyoko. How would Kyoko respond to the question? It was hard to think she'd give a good answer, since she was hardly aware of her identity as a female, or so Sayaka thought. She resolved to pose the question to the group after lessons.

"I, uh, think that a woman must be, um, happy?"

Nakazawa-kun's voice trailed off to end with uncertainty, with sweat pouring like rain over his head. In truth he wasn't very afraid of what would become of him if he failed to answer the question in a way that satisfied Saotome-sensei. It was only that the tension and the atmosphere made him very fretful. After all, what could Saotome-sensei do, except for abusing her every authority as a teacher: pushing all the class duties to him, making him answer every single question for the next few weeks, overloading the class with homework, forcing him to stay back for detention, and giving him the evil eye? He tried to convince himself that failure wasn't too bad an outcome.

"Absolutely correct! Nakazawa-kun is truly an exemplar of a dying breed of men!"

Relieved, and wowed by how he somehow managed to defuse the situation, he sat back down and listened to Saotome-sensei's following discourse.

"Happiness is the birthright of every person! It doesn't matter if you're male or female, old or young, you deserve to be happy! And your happiness won't fall from the sky; you have to reach out for it first! So seize the day and grab that happiness for yourself! Remember girls, when you're dating, your happiness is your own to take! Don't wait for the man to act, or else you can never expect anything good from them! Be careful not to date guys who believe that a woman must be like this or like that! You are your own person!"

"So that's what this is about, huh Madoka," Sayaka quietly spoke to Madoka seated at to her southeast.  
"It must be pretty bad this time; she's not even specifying the problem," Madoka wore an apologetic look as she said that.

"Now then," Saotome-sensei got back into her swing, "let's begin with the test."

"Test?"  
"Sayaka, did you forget?" Hitomi enquired from behind.  
"Eh? Uh, no, I didn't. How could I? There's so much to study for this math test! Differentiation, integration, trigonometry, geometry, vectors, hahaha…"

* * *

"I give up."

Sayaka slumped down in defeat, twiddling with the pen in her fingers. She really didn't get why she had really the need to learn all this stuff. Would she really need to calculate for the area under a graph, or find out what the air-speed velocity of an unladen sparrow was? What was the point of having to learn about Fibonacci's sequence and other whatnots? She wasn't even aspiring to enter any fields of work that required all this knowledge, though it was also that she wasn't too sure what she wanted to do in the future. Maybe she'd be a composer. She found it all very mundane. Kyoko would occasionally tell her something along the lines of, "That's because you've got too much air between yer' ears t' see the patterns. It's supposed to be fun t'do ya'know?"

In her boredom, she gave a quick scan of the class. First she checked up Kyoko, and she wasn't surprised to find what she found.

Only twenty minutes in and Kyoko was already off in the land of Nod. Her head was supported by a straightened left arm, resting in the palm of her hand as it leaned against the glass wall, and her mouth slackly hung ajar. Not that Saotome-sensei minded though; Kyoko had completed the test long ago and she was one of the top scorers in the cohort. An irony in life, as Sayaka would say, that Kyoko – reputable slacker – slept in one bed with Sayaka, who worked so hard just to pass. Well, Sayaka definitely wasn't to be passing this test.

Back at Madoka's house on Friday, Sayaka still had wholesome intentions of getting down with her work and improving her weak areas. Kyoko's tempting encouragement to eat the night away took a hold of Sayaka and she just went with the flow, forgetting all about her studies. She thought, 'Well, I can always do it tomorrow' and procrastinated away, delaying to do the needful. Then came Saturday, she attended a concert with Hitomi and went on an unplanned shopping spree with Kyoko – with Kyoko taking advantage of Sayaka's careless state of mind to get her to buy many snacks – so she barely had the time to study for the test. She thought, 'Well, I'll just do it tomorrow' and delayed doing what was best for her. Sunday was a free day. Sayaka had no appointments whatsoever. But Kyoko insisted that they check out the book fair and arts festival being held downtown, so Sayaka very reluctantly asked to tag along. Kyoko was pleased as punch, knowing that her personal bank had decided to come along for the ride.

She'd buy books, fiction and non-fiction of all sorts in bulk whenever she went to such conventions. The problem lied in that there were some books she hadn't touched since their day of purchase. All day she'd be out and about with Sayaka or sometimes out of town. Then at night, whenever she went to bed, she'd always bring along something to read. On some occasions, it'd be a storybook. On others, there'd be magazines. At times, she would bring along a volume of bedtime stories and ask Sayaka to narrate what was in it. But on most days, Sayaka would not see her read even more than three consecutive pages, either because she fell asleep or because she set aside her reading to play around with Sayaka. As such, while Kyoko did greatly enjoy reading, it was clear that she had not the dedication to make it her hobby. Despite Sayaka's once incessant badgering for her to stop buying books until she read those lying around and gathering dust, Kyoko still persisted in her errant ways.

Rather ironic for a person whose life motto might as well be 'Don't waste food!' to be spending money so frivolously. Then again, it was always to be expected if her expenditure for snacks was any reliable indication of her spending habits. Nonetheless, when given a nudge, Kyoko would go for a reading marathon and finish most of her unread books. Some books, she kept in her shelf at Sayaka's place. Others, she donated. In a way, Kyoko had tsundoku tendencies. But she refused to have herself branded as a tsundoku, returning the favour by calling Sayaka a tsundere whenever Sayaka provoked her in such a way.

In spite of all the downsides, having Kyoko hang around her wasn't too bad of an idea. It had its own peculiar set of perquisites. For a start, life was a lot richer. Indescribably richer.

The profundity of the emotion she felt, the unseen and unshown transformation she underwent, was something she found impossible to put into words if even she wanted to do so. It was hard to put a word to it. Perhaps it was an iron bond. Perhaps that's what it was.

Seeing Kyoko's adorable sleeping face energized her with a raring zest for life. There was a certain flair to it that she couldn't put her finger on – something loveable, something lightening, something lonely. Sayaka found it quite endearing, or did she? But as much as that did to brighten her mood, it helped her little in way of completing the test.

Sayaka's eyes shifted left and right, sweeping the room for anything else eye-catching. First thing she noticed was the floor. The floor needed sweeping. It was getting dusty. Someone needed to have it cleaned. It was getting dull. Then again, it was a job of tedium. You could work at it all your life, but never finish. But even then, someone had to do it. It was an undeniable reality.

Sometimes Sayaka wondered why people came up with sweeping. It was such a futile task. You can sweep it today, and you can sweep it tomorrow, and you can sweep it till you draw your last breath. But then dust would settle down again, as if that were its nature. And all your efforts just become dust in the wind. Maybe people do it to while away their time. But is time really so worthless that you have to innovate ways to spend it? The hypocrisy of such human idiosyncrasies was quite interesting to ponder on. People always wanted more time for this, more for that, when they've wasted it all on things like housework. And on their deathbeds, Sayaka wouldn't find many people saying: "I wish I'd done more housework in my life." But all that aside, housework was an important aspect of daily life. Especially so since Kyoko came.

Channelling her mind to all things nice and pleasant, she slyly turned her head to see how Madoka was doing. It was mean of her to think so, but no one could deny that Madoka was only barely stronger than her at math even long before she migrated for America.

Madoka was doing absolutely fine, smiling away as she wrote and jabbed at the calculator. It was all very discouraging for Sayaka.

Sayaka glanced at Kyoko again, still sleeping.

Then she turned her head and saw that there, seated to Nakazawa's right, was Akemi Homura.

Homura was writing away at her test papers with the constant rhythm of an automaton. She had gotten close to Madoka quite recently. The thought of it seemed endearing yet also weirdly repulsive to Sayaka. It was quite obvious that there was sort of affinity between the two, almost like they were tied by a red thread of fate. In the short time that they knew each other, Madoka had grown very attached to Homura and Homura warmed up to her almost instantaneously, relative to normal statistics. It was difficult for Sayaka to stomach. What was it?

Both Madoka and Homura – something felt very wrong. Though Madoka stayed in America for more than three years, she didn't seem to have picked up any American traits, neither the good nor the bad. It was like she'd never been there at all. Then again, something also felt very right.

Egrets, flocks in flocks, left their perches and took off to the sky. Streaming out, they rode on the warm winds down to the bay. Pigeons stood on the walkways, hobbling from street to street, picking at the crumbs people felled. Once in a while, one pigeon would be run over by a vehicle. Melting into a mass of black feathers, a murder of crows would fly in search of new prey. Every now and then, the dust on the classroom floor would stir itself.

Sayaka could not remember. Sayaka looked at the floor. Surely it needed sweeping.

If only to save face, she began on the tedium of doing the undoable. With luck, maybe she'd pass.

* * *

"Ah yeah," Kyoko walked over to Sayaka's desk and stretched her back, "that was easy."

"Tch," Kyoko's off-hand comment rankled Sayaka, "how?"

With a wave of her hand, she replied, "I studied of course."

Sayaka whipped her head to face Kyoko in her astonishment.

"Studied? When did you study? We were watching the television till it was early morning."  
"Well I did it when you were napping."

Kyoko opened a box of Pocki and broke a stick in her mouth.

"Didn't I fall asleep on your shoulder?"

Hearing that, Kyoko's face contorted sourly as though she had just sucked a lemon. Waving half a stick in the air, she went on to clarify Sayaka's doubts.

"You did. But you sleep like a pig, y'know? You're a heavy sleeper. You're so heavy."  
"Do I?" Sayaka was less irked than she was genuinely curious to find out if there was any truth behind Kyoko's words.  
"Well I guess we've got to test that out someday."

Kyoko vaguely put it out to Sayaka, allowing her to promptly return back to the topic of importance.

"And, I only slept for 10 minutes! You're saying you studied while I slept?"  
"Even a minute is more than enough."  
"Huh?!"

Sayaka would devote a good two hours to complete her math homework on most days, and even when the load was light she had to use up at least an hour. Even after spending hours on math homework, she had no guarantee at all that her answers would be mostly correct. Finding and correcting all her mistakes would only double her workload and the amount of time she spent slogging away at it. Yet, blasphemy in its entirety, Kyoko boldly declared that she needed less than 1/120 the amount of time Sayaka used just to do her homework, to revise five lengthy chapters.

"Yeah, you only have to memorise the formulae. Heck, y'could've done that before Saotome-sensei came in."

Kyoko dropped another bomb on Sayaka's self-esteem. In the beginning, Sayaka thought that they were on roughly equal footing but the statement had left her completely flabbergasted. Before a test, Sayaka would have to go through the rigours of practicing sets of problems and reviewing her past worksheets before she finally got the steps and the system behind it down. Then, Saotome-sensei's tests would just trample all over her sense of self-satisfaction. On the other hand, Kyoko dearest had only to 'memorise the formulae'. Sayaka hadn't witnessed Kyoko studying very much, but she always assumed that Kyoko had to put in effort to score her stellar results.

"Ya see," she whipped out a small post-it note containing five lines of symbols, "it's just that short!"

Sayaka could not fathom how it could take her tens of hours just to learn how to use the formulae, which all looked Greek to her, while Kyoko could just tell her in her face that it was a really simple thing to do while eating the Pocki she bought with Sayaka's money.

"Yer' not that stupid, ya know."

Kyoko caught on to Sayaka's expression of self-deprecation and consoled her with warm, but overly frank, words. Flashing her signature fang-accented grin, she went on to provide her with more food for thought.

"Even you can do it! But of course, there are some facts I can't deny."

Upon hearing Kyoko's snide remark, she broke eye contact with Kyoko, looked up at the ceiling and ran her hands back and forth through her hair in an act of plain distress.

"Argh! It's all your fault! Stop rubbing salt into the wound! Why didn't you remind me to study last night?!"  
"Relax, it's just a test. The worst thing you can do is fail, am I right?"

Kyoko was truly, a happy-go-lucky girl.

"Then I'll be failing my third test in a row!"  
"Ain't it fine? Constancy is a virtue. And even if you fail every single test you get, you'll still graduate right? There, see it's alright!"

Then came the zinger, "Sayaka, just keep being yourself."

She reached into the box and pulled out another three sticks and stuck their uncoated ends into her mouth.

"Gah! I've had it with you! Come here!"  
"Ei!"

Sayaka jolted out of her seat and swung an outstretched arm at Kyoko, who masterfully sidestepped the attack and jumped backwards. Sayaka swiftly strode to cover the distance between her and Kyoko, trying to get a hold of the cheeky fellow. What she would do next, she wasn't entirely sure. But what she was sure of was that Kyoko would get it hard from her.

"Hey, get back here! Give me back my Pocki!"  
"Your Pocki? I bought it!"  
"With my money!"

Kyoko shielded herself behind Madoka who was just standing by the side-lines. With one step Sayaka took in the clockwise direction, Kyoko followed, such that Madoka was always between them. Madoka only smiled nervously and refrained from moving around. Technically speaking, Kyoko had better reflexes and was much more agile than Sayaka so she was sure to get away scot-free if it were purely a game of dexterity. Speaking broadly, Sayaka couldn't really think of an area where she wasn't weaker. Kyoko was more cunning and the more they stalled in inaction, the more time Sayaka was giving Kyoko to make a quick getaway. She was really like a squirrel darting about here and there, yet coming back for more. How greatly Sayaka wanted to wipe that smirk off Kyoko's face; her sadistic urges compelling her to wrack her brains for a spark of innovative trickery. But since the game was still ongoing, she had to put up a veneer of careless desperation in the hopes that Kyoko would drop her guard. So they continued running circles around Madoka, with Sayaka being careful not to attempt outmanoeuvring Kyoko before the proper chance came.

"Oi! Stop right there!"  
"No way! Hahaha!"

"Um, aren't you guys hungry?"  
"Hungry? Of course I am!"

Kyoko replied to Madoka, taking her attention away from Sayaka for a moment.

'_Hah!'_

In a flash, Sayaka halted and shot an arm out to displace Kyoko's box of Pocki, sticking her arm close to Madoka's waistline so that the attack would be hard to spot. It was a cheap trick, but one that was very effective. Surely Kyoko would lurch backwards to rescue the Pocki sticks, giving Sayaka enough time to get a grip on her.

Though it was all well and good in theory, Sayaka miscalculated her trajectory and only shaved at the box.

"Haha! You missed!"

Still running, Kyoko taunted Sayaka. She closed her eyes and roared out a mighty laugh.

Immediately after, that one small act of complacency led to Kyoko's thighs slamming into a nearby empty desk and her upper body falling harshly on it. Sayaka, not at all exhausted by the little cat-and-mouse play they had, flipped Kyoko's body over and used her arms to push down Kyoko's shoulders, pinning Kyoko onto the desk with her body weight.

Hitomi just stared at the exchange from where she sat.

"Got you now."

Sayaka leaned forwards, against Kyoko's body. So completely caught up in the moment she was, that she failed to notice the stares of several classmates who were still in class. And Hitomi had her camera cell phone out in position.

Kyoko, pure innocent maiden, had her cheeks scorching in a colour of embarrassment and burning coal from Sayaka's sudden intimate gesture. Sayaka knew well which buttons to press to throw Kyoko off. She gazed passionately into Kyoko's eyes, lost in a misty haze of longing and want. Fire was Kyoko's the child of her mind, and Kyoko became that fire. She didn't have the slightest clue what was going on; her mind was thrown into chaotic disarray when Sayaka's face got dangerously close to hers. There was crackling and there was a thick sooty smoke, because the firewood and the flames raging in their hearts longed to be heard by whoever fancied. Past delighting in thick red wine of passion and clear white spirits of attraction, Kyoko's heart stilled as she awaited Sayaka's next action in total surrender.

But on the contrary, Sayaka wasn't even looking at Kyoko. Sayaka unfocused her vision, giving her eyes a smoky glaze that some of the cruder folks would say was a hint of uncontrollable craving and bestial impulse. Staring at the centre of Kyoko's forehead, she could well see the drastic colour changes of her face. Sayaka half-expected her to bellow out something along the lines of "Get off of me, you fat slug!" if she dragged it out long enough for her to come to her senses, so she dove in for the finisher. Kyoko shut her eyes tightly.

Rapidly entering dangerous proximity, Sayaka reclaimed what was rightfully hers. She lowered her head ever closer to Kyoko's. Then she parted her lips, and in one swift move she tore off more than three quarters of the Pocki sticks in Kyoko's mouth. With grace and finesse, she raised her body and got off Kyoko.

"You know, Kyoko," Sayaka quipped, "you are what you eat."

Kyoko unsteadily got to her feet, staggering instead of swaggering. Her face was still a bright shade of burgundy and her widened eyes betrayed how surprising and unexpected Sayaka's blatant tease was. Sayaka always thought she looked quite adorable when she was nonplussed. Basking in the glory of her success, Sayaka chewed on the Pocki sticks she had so shamelessly taken from Kyoko.

But not before long, a dastardly smirk surfaced on her face. Kyoko had successfully blindsided Sayaka.

"Y-You should watch what you're eating."

Perplexed, Sayaka sighted the label printed on the box. It was written: Strong Jalapeno.

And Sayaka had just popped in three of them down her gullet.

Sayaka had forgotten: what is sweet now, can turn so sour.

Homura observed the colourful rabble for some time before making a quiet exit. She excused herself from lessons until the day's end.

* * *

"In class, Saotome-sensei came up with a bizarre new question. So it goes like this, what do you think a woman should have?"

It was routine for Sayaka, Kyoko, Madoka, Mami, and Hitomi whenever she could spare the time, to meet up at the lounge in the west wing of the school after school and lounge around in school for a couple of minutes after school. From the red-velvet carpeted floor to the lacquered teak inner walls and the glazed glass-panel walls, one could conclude that great lengths were taken to for the design of the school interior. The first time Sayaka stumbled upon the place, she marvelled at the luxuriance of the furnishings which wouldn't seem at all out of place in a four-star hotel.

"Ah yes," Hitomi spoke, "apparently she was quite shaken up by her most recent break-up."

Three of them sat on upholstered cabriolet chairs and Kyoko, on a stacking chair. As with her beds, she liked her chairs firm. Anything too soft was bad for her to sit in or lie on.

Hitomi continued, "This is quite a tricky question, isn't it?"  
"Indeed it is. What's the correct answer?" asked Mami.  
"It's 'happiness'."  
"Nakazawa-kun answered that! Woah, why didn't I catch that?"  
"That's because you were sleeping through the segment, Kyoko."

And it was only a norm for them to gather round and discuss the controversial answers to Saotome-sensei's thought-provoking questions.

"It does sound quite unexpected and vague."  
"Yes, it is. Fortunately, it was what Saotome-sensei had in mind."

They were about to leave for the shopping centre they often frequented for some tea.

"Well then, shall we go? We might as well talk on the way," Mami offered.  
"Sure," and Hitomi gave out an utterance of acceptance.  
"Wait, aren't you forgetting something Madoka?" Sayaka gave Madoka a little mental nudge.  
"Eh? Ah! Right."  
"Y'mean that love-love meeting?"  
"Kyoko-chan, it's nothing like that!"  
"But it is almost time isn't it?"

Kyoko pointed at the wall clock. It was 5:30.

"There's still half an hour more; I'm sure she still has a bit of time left."  
"Time? For?"

Mami was quizzical. She had to send Nagisa to school every morning before setting off herself, so she'd often miss out on those small nuggets of information.

"Right, Mami-san doesn't know," Kyoko rested her hand behind her head and continued, "y'see in the morning, Madoka got asked out to the rooftop at 6."  
"Oh my. Is it a confession?"  
"My sentiments exactly," Hitomi entered the conversation with Mami, "I think so too but nothing's specified."  
"See, Madoka – even Mami came to that conclusion. This can only mean that you're quite eligible, the way you are now."

Kyoko then turned her attention to Mami and made a small faux pas.

"But Mami-san, are you in a relationship?" Kyoko leaned across the table and moved to the edge of her seat but Sayaka quietly whispered to her to sit still.  
"Ah, no," Mami increased her rate of blinking and looked down for a moment as she said that.

Before Mami could continue, Sayaka spoke up, much to her relief.

"It must be good to be popular."  
"Not really; it has its downsides," Mami gave a quick reply.

She wouldn't want to needlessly wreck her carefully sculpted image in front of her juniors. To escape the conversation and its direction, she got up and walked out into the hallways, motioning for the others to come along. One by one, they all left their seats and followed along.

Then Sayaka declared, "I had a weird dream last night."

"What 'bout it, Sayaka?" answered Kyoko.

Sayaka recalled that strange autumn night's dream. Funny she had mentioned the peculiar dream. It seemed so consciously vivid and lifelike, as if it were really happening before her very eyes, but unlike her other dreams she didn't seem to be in control of herself, her thoughts, her focus, anything. It was her that she was, but at the same time it was not. Sayaka looked down at the floor in deep thought. The others listened attentively.

"Well, I dreamed I saw an invisible bird's shadow. I dreamed something before that, but I can't really remember."

Sayaka was starting to forget. She was a forgetful girl, but she'd remember in due time. One time she forgot where she placed her keys and only remembered five hours later.

"Oh, but after that I dreamed of Kyoko."  
"Dreamed of me?"

"Yeah I did, but it wasn't a pleasant dream."  
"What's that supposed to mean?"  
"Just listen to what I'm saying. It wasn't a very good dream."

"A nightmare?" Hitomi piped up. Sayaka nodded in affirmation

"In that dream, Kyoko was in front of me like she is now."

Sayaka looked up and met Kyoko's eyes. She looked up to the ceiling pretending that she was thinking about what went on next, when in actuality she did so to mask her discomfort.

"Eh~ I can't really seem to remember what happened next."

If there was one thing, she remembered, it was that Kyoko was paradoxically somewhere far, further than she could reach. But she wouldn't tell her that.

"Right, then after that I dreamed I saw an invisible bird casting a shadow."  
"What's with that logic? If it's invisible, how can you see it? In the first place, how can something invisible cast a shadow?"  
"It's a dream Kyoko. Dreams are like that."  
"They're illogical."  
"Yes, illogical."  
"Like you?"  
"You trying to be clever?"

Sayaka balled up her fist and raised it up to shoulder level, whereas Kyoko simply waved her hands a bit. Kyoko had taken many liberties with her that day, and she had to admit to herself that it was fun to push Sayaka's buttons. But as Sayaka was about to go on against Kyoko, Sayaka saw from the corner of her eyes, Akemi Homura's fleeting shadow.

Then Madoka, seeming to have also spotted Akemi Homura, turned her head in the direction where Akemi Homura had disappeared. She took a quick glance at the wall clock, and realized it was almost 6.

"Ah, I guess I'd better go ahead and wait at the rooftop first. See you!"

Without waiting for any replies, Madoka hurriedly walked down the hallways.

"Ah, uh, gomen. I've got to go to the washroom."

Without really knowing why she made the excuse, Sayaka followed her gut feeling and took after Homura.

* * *

Lately the school management had restyled the school in the likeness of neo-Gothic architecture, most obviously seen by the gradual yet stark transformation of the rooftop. Its columns used to be rectangular steel with a flat top and a foot's length that supported long glass-panel walls, evoking a clean cold metallic feel. But it had been replaced by bar tracery, transforming the plain columns and panels to elaborate Perpendicular-Gothic windows, where the topsides of the windows were straight instead of curved and also featured a short thin pinnacle. The main entrance leading to the rooftop had similarly undergone a major transformation whereby its steely cylindrical pedestals and spires, a fusion of structural expressionism and Mesoamerican styles, were cleanly changed out for a grand cathedral façade. Admittedly, it was a subtle change for the better. Previously, the ubiquitous silver finish all looked very mechanical and overexposed. It exaggerated the presence of the centre steel platform giving it the feel of a sacrificial altar, both sinister and divine.

The door stood ajar, light spilling in from the outside into the hallways. Sayaka stepped out into the soft light.

"Miki Sayaka," and Akemi Homura spoke her name.

* * *

**Handle With Care**

* * *

The forest of openwork pinnacles and spires reaching on the roof shimmered for a moment before the sun had completely gone down the hills. The bronze statue of the Virgin Mary, a new instalment to the school's amply remarkable architecture made to resemble the Madoninna, slowly lost its lustre as the golden light waned. Her staff pointed vertically upwards, towards the sky.

"Good evening," Homura said.

Homura sat on one of the stone benches lining the rooftop, battered by the golden rain of light.

Browned leaves, green leaves – they all fell in time, like the ancient dreams they were inseparable from. Some would cover the heads, some would cover the eyes, and all would be trampled under the souls of their feet.

Akemi Homura's left eye stared straight through Sayaka. In it, there was a cold lonely look.

"Do you need of me anything?"

Her words came slowly. Bright-red splattered on the ground through the quatrefoils on the walls, filling the empty spaces not occupied by the looming grand shadows of the rooftop's spires. On the spacious rooftop, there was a speckled marble round table and two seats in the centre. No one was around that day but still it shone glaringly under the sun, giving Sayaka the impression of an everyday warmth. It reflected the supple light, freshening everything in a crimson palette. It was almost as though Sayaka was alone on the rooftop. But she wasn't. At least, Homura was there.

"Anything at all?"

The light soon closed down on her. The sun was down. Then the school was draped in a light hue of orange-blue.

"Not really," Sayaka replied.

Her brass-plated 'fortissimo' hairclip reflected dancing and shining waves of sunlight sparkle floating in an orange sea. The ring on her left hand's middle finger twinkled. Flocks of bluebirds zipped past, forming a big blue arch in the heavens.

"You excused yourself from classes,"

Akemi Homura's black lizard earrings were momentarily exposed from within her long raven hair by a mild zephyr. Their hanging purple prismatic gems revolved round and round about their locus, shooting out beams of dispersed light rays. Split up into their various polarisations, a faint rainbow spectrum coated whatever it fell on as the jewels rotated in its irregular orbit.

"Are you feeling alright?"

Merging with the shadows, flickering between the lines –

"I wasn't feeling too well."

From the corner of her eye, she thought she saw the Madoninna smile.

"I see."

Just then, Akemi Homura looked up to the sky. On days like those, where the clouds loomed sleepily overhead and all the sky, more vague and distant that it normally felt, Miki Sayaka felt blissfully calm. It almost seemed too good to be true. Maybe it was. Time slowed to a crawl.

Sayaka's eyes widened slightly, in vague recognition.

Not missing the little gesture, Akemi smiled and asked her, "What's wrong?"

Twilight arrived.

"Nothing much, I just felt like I forgot something."

Then Sayaka asked,

"What are you doing here?"

* * *

_Bong. Bong. Bong._

* * *

"Biding my time."

* * *

_From the lonely belltower reaching high towards the heavens, as the clock struck six, three chimes of the old bronze bell resounded throughout the empty green meadows and the closed-off city walls. The dew that gathered on the blades of leaves gradually trickled down into the soil. A gentle breeze wafted by in the busy streets, bringing to its people a scent of the violets and peppermints which grew in the city's parks in some long-forgotten time._

* * *

"What are you doing here?" Akemi threw the question back at Sayaka.

* * *

_A warm blood-red sunset stretched as far as the eye could see. Certainly, the day was a quiet day. Madoka mused as such in her thought, as she walked in the long empty hallways of Mitakihara Middle School._

* * *

"Biding my time."

* * *

_The glass windows of the complex reflected the blinding light that came from every corner, perpetuating the warmth of the sunset everywhere, such that nary a dark shadow could appear._

* * *

"Then I suppose we're doing the same thing," with a half-smile, Akemi told Sayaka so.

* * *

_Indeed, it was a strange day, albeit not for any undesirable reasons._

* * *

"I guess I never really talked to you that much, huh."

In the silence, buffeted by the colours of high wind and the sounds of the autumn sun, Sayaka's voice pierced through the setting-sun air.

"I wonder why," Homura commented.

Homura took a fistful of small ripe tomatoes out from her pocket.

"Shouldn't you be going somewhere?" Again, Homura asked.

And she threw them high in the air.

"Perhaps."

Sayaka uttered this half-hearted response as she remained transfixed by the graceful flight of the tomatoes. As it reached its peak, slanted crimson rays of light shone on the drops of dew still hanging onto the tomatoes, eliciting a fuzzy and warm feeling that suffused all over her. Then crows circling the sky dove down one after another, at different angles from different positions, and swooped towards the scattered tomatoes.

"You, and I,"

One by one, they gobbled them up. As if the image of tomatoes idyllically hanging in the air was naught but a mirage, the crow's weaving tapestry netted them all up, saving them from their imminent fall, leaving behind a faint blur of black in the blue sky – all resonating as an arpeggiated chord.

"Are quite alike, don't you think?"

Then out from the grey-fringed fleece hides of clouds, the jovial sun came out for one last time to greet the brand new day.

"I'm not sure. I don't really know you too well."

The sleeping wind blew low, and then the birds of black and of blue sang melodies in the minor keys of autumn. In the sunshine gold, the russet and lime of trees beneath her rustled slightly. The azure of far-off waves crashed with the dynamism only to be beheld in a most light-hearted creature.

"Well then," Homura told her, "it looks like someone's calling for you."

So another day went, and one after another, countless as the strands of dust or droplets of dew and seamless as the flying of the crows, time passes by. And the sun's rays had shone upon the beads of silky water, capturing within it the world in a new light.

"Sayaka! Are you here?" Kyoko called out from within the school.

Such was the trademark of fall: transfiguration. Flowers bloomed in their spring, and then become lost in time to come.

"I'm here!"

Sayaka got up and shouted to Kyoko, who was probably about to reach the rooftop.

"Well, hurry on up! We're all waiting for you."

But surely, someday they would rise to bloom again.

"See you later, Akemi-san."

And Sayaka saw the beauty of autumn, just as she saw the beauty of spring. After all, why would she love the tree but hate its fruit? Why would she love the fruit but hate its tree? Would she love the rising of the sun, but hate its setting?

"Goodbye."

She scampered off beyond the portal of the rooftop and closed the heavy wooden door shut behind her softly.

"Ah, Kyoko! Come on, let's go."

Sayaka saw Kyoko not too far away and waved to her. She waved back.

"Hurry up, you're so slow!"  
"Hai, hai~"

They walked onwards, Kyoko in front of Sayaka.

"Ne, Kyoko~"  
"Hmm?"

In the last embers of blooming golden sunlight sweeping through the glass-walled walkways, Kyoko's glowing mien shone like a clear diamond in the colours of the rainbow. Sayaka's skin tingled in the day's warmth.

"When winter comes,"

* * *

**_Didn't she remember?_**

* * *

Great lights, and the lesser glittering, the nearer sparkling, and the further gleaming: sparkling where the lake reflected her, gleaming bright in cloudless height, protecting the deep bliss of rest, there; there, sunlight fell, redder than Kyoko's hair.

* * *

**_She would ask her father,_**

* * *

"Do you,"

* * *

**_"Can we build a snowman?"_**

* * *

"want to build a snowman?"

* * *

**_And her father would tell her, "Are you sure? It won't last for even a few hours in this rain, you know?"_**

* * *

Kyoko turned around.

* * *

**_"That's okay."_**

* * *

And she saw Sayaka smile in the warm cozy light.

* * *

**_"Winter won't last forever too."_**

* * *

And Sayaka smiled like a little child.

* * *

**Footnote: How to make a soft bed harder - Google it.  
**

**Next Chapter:**

**Chapter IVA  
A Cup of Tea and A Vague Assortment of Crummy Biscuits**

"Pinch Sayaka. On her butt, if you please."  
"E-eh?! What, why?"  
"Oh, not so loud. Never you mind why: just pinch her, please."


	6. IVA: A Cup Of Tea

**Chapter IVA  
A Cup Of Tea and A Vague Assortment Of Crummy Butter Biscuits**

* * *

"Y'know, wouldn't it be good to suddenly have mild amnesia?"

Kyoko hijacked the conversation with another one of her brilliant ideas. Sayaka had to admit that Kyoko was a smart person, but she was very prone to having sudden episodes of random whims and saying phrases she might just have plucked out of thin air.

When Sayaka taunted her about it, Kyoko relayed, "_Nullum magnum ingenium sine mixtura dementia._"

"_Rurun runrunrun – just what the hell are you saying?"  
"I'm saying something you can't understand, and saying it pleases me as much as it pleases me that you don't understand what I'm saying."_

After a trifle flick of coercion, it was revealed that Kyoko actually said: there is no great genius without a mixture of madness. Ever since Sayaka picked Kyoko up, she learnt many new Greek-sounding words and names of eminent people. Take for example, Gagastlas Romulus. Sayaka discovered that he became the last ruling emperor of the Western Roman Empire when he was only an adolescent, though he was only a figurehead for his father and reigned for only ten months. Kyoko was very much compelled, or coerced, to tell Sayaka who Gagastlas Romulus was when Sayaka confronted her last night about the remarks she had made when they had dinner at Madoka's.

Indeed, Sayaka could hardly predict what Kyoko would do or say. To Sayaka, Kyoko was no different from a magician's hat and her mind, a frenetic whirlwind of whimsical idiosyncrasies. But of course, blame it all on Sayaka whose mental faculties were not keen enough and her thinking not broad enough to comprehend Kyoko's little quirks.

And surely, her suggestion of 'having mild amnesia' was one of those signature weird but fascinating prompts Kyoko would come up with from time to time. It was right up there with what she once told Saotome-sensei: 'You know, there's an easier way to stop your boyfriend from cheating on you. Just rush into his house and break his hands and legs so he'll never be able to use them again. Make him helpless without you. Then he'll be totally yours… body and soul.'

The group was just having a discussion of the new episode of the new late-night drama airing on the television until Kyoko, sucking on a lollipop, diverted their attention away.

"Mild amnesia?"

As perplexed as a monkey before a mirror, Madoka felt compelled to repeat the two words just to make sure she hadn't misheard.

"Yeah," playing it cool, Kyoko dramatically covered half her face with an outstretched hand and said, "mild amnesia."

"Nandeyanen?!"

Offering a brilliant if overused tsukkomi, Sayaka followed up with a forceful forehand whack to the back of Kyoko's head.

Then Hitomi asked the question that was on everybody's mind.

"Why mild amnesia?"

Mami suggested to the group, "Well, wouldn't it be nice if you could re-watch a movie or a series without knowing all the plot twists and the ending?"

"Ah, isn't that right? Especially when someone spoils you the ending before you watch it. That's just plain bad," Sayaka lamented.

Madoka gave Sayaka an emphatic empathetic nod and made her own contribution to the fascinating new topic of discussion.

"I get what you mean. The other day I was watching the detective show airing at 5 and right off the bat, my mother told me the detective was actually the killer. Then after that I couldn't help but become suspicious of everything the detective did."

"You mean the rerun of that old detective show, 'Detective Perspective'?"  
"Mm. 'Detective Perspective'."

Madoka had just committed a grave oversight without even realising it.

"Madoka…"  
"Yes, Sayaka-chan?"

After a short pause, she looked into Madoka's eyes and repeated, "Don't you sometimes wish you could have mild amnesia?"

"Yeah, just imagine what y' could do with mild amnesia," went Kyoko again.

"You could watch a movie time after time and never get tired of it," said Mami.  
"You could read a book again and again, and it'll still feel like it's your first time reading it," said Madoka.  
"You could forget how to breathe. You could waste the whole week watching one movie again and again," said Sayaka, raining down hard on their parade.

"Oh!" Kyoko turned to Sayaka and continued, "If you ever forgot how to breathe, can people teach you how to?"  
"Is it even possible to forget how to breathe?"

"It just might be! We can forget how to talk; we can forget how to walk, so we could be able to forget how to breathe! Right?"

This time, Kyoko addressed all the group's members, seeking their backing.

"But I think you'd have to have a pretty severe case of brain injury to forget that."  
"It does sound like it could happen. It's just that it's never happened before I guess."

Respectively, Mami and Hitomi chimed in with comments of their own.

"So," Kyoko slurred, still sucking on her lollipop, "any volunteers?"

"Volunteers, my foot!"

_Whack!_

"Ittai! Ittai! It hurts! It hurts so bad!"

Kyoko quickly doubled over in pain, clutching her head tightly and rolling around on her desk as tears pooled in the corner of her eyes. In fact, she was pretending not to look while actually looking. And she was looking for, in particular, a chance to snatch a piece of anything edible from Sayaka.

"Do you have to be so dramatic? You're being so loud," Sayaka went and chided Kyoko. It was no thanks to Kyoko that Sayaka had been branded as an eccentric person by some classmates, or at least, that was how Sayaka thought of the situation.

"Ah!"

And taking full advantage of Sayaka's evident distraction, she slickly shot her chopsticks out to Sayaka's opened but untouched bento and plucked out all her vegetable tempura in one go. Then, in full view of Sayaka, into her mouth and down her widened throat they went.

To Sayaka's remorse, the great tempura heist happened so suddenly and so quickly that even if she had been aware of Kyoko's intentions from the start, she wouldn't have been able to intervene in the momentous act of mischief.

"Oi Kyoko! Don't steal my lunch!"  
"Aha, it was just a bit wasn't it, Sayaka?"

Sayaka harrumphed and pouted, her eyebrows furrowed in visible distress and her eyelids wavering ever so slightly. But despite appearances, Sayaka was never in the least ticked off. She had gotten far too accustomed to such happenings to even bother. Sayaka simply wanted to mess with Kyoko's head a little.

"Sayaka?"

Sayaka pecked in silence at her rice with her chopsticks, but soon put them down as if to say that she didn't have much of an appetite. Kyoko, seated directly opposite her in matching silence, anxiously watched how her chopsticks moved up and down without ever closing to pick up any food.

"Sayaka~"

In the background, the other three spoke in hushed tones and murmured to themselves.

"Oh dear, it looks like Sayaka's quite angry this time."  
"Yes it does."  
"Well she does have reason to get angry."

Crumbling to peer-pressure and the sinking feeling of guilt and despair over angering Sayaka that swelled up in her heart, Kyoko let out a little whimper and mustered up the courage to apologize to Sayaka.

"Alright, I'm sorry," Kyoko said in a low, reflective voice. She sounded as though she really felt apologetic over her actions.

"Here, I'll make it up to you."

"Well… you didn't really have to. But thanks anyway."

With a little cheery smile plastered on her face, Sayaka swivelled around to face Kyoko. She wondered how Kyoko would 'make it up to her'.

And gazing into Sayaka's eyes, Kyoko nonchalantly pulled out the lollipop from her mouth and holding it by the stick, she extended her arm towards Sayaka.

"What is this?" Sayaka asked in minor disbelief and confusion.

Kyoko seemed to be offering the lollipop to Sayaka.

"Be thankful," said Kyoko, her steely eyes still meeting with Sayaka's.

Then with intense seriousness, she told Sayaka in a low and gruff voice, "It's an indirect kiss."

_Whack!_ No hesitation there.

"Idiot!"

Just with one simple sentence, Sayaka's face turned all warm and fuzzy right up to her ears.

"Ahaha! Sorry! Sorry!"

_Whack! Whack!_

"You blithering idiot!" Sayaka screeched out.

As their little fiesta went on, Kyoko's pleas for peace became all the more intermingled with bursts of raucous laughter and light chuckling. Mami, Madoka, and Hitomi stopped bantering to watch Sayaka run herself ragged with hitting Kyoko. Clearly they saw no need to step in. Sometime ago, it had become a common occurrence to see Kyoko purposefully rile Sayaka up and Sayaka doing something or other in return.

Then Kyoko felt a firm grip on her shoulders. It only got firmer by the second.

"Ah, stop it, Sayaka! No more! It hurts!"

It was no surprise that Sayaka was thought to be leaning towards the sadistic end of the sadomasochistic spectrum amongst her peers.

* * *

_The autumn leaves, arranged in two or three scarlet terraces among the pine trees grown in the gardens, had fallen like ancient dreams. The red and white camellias near the main entrance, dropping their petals, a red one then a white one, were finally left bare. The wintry sun along the ten-foot length of the southwards-facing classroom sets daily earlier than yesterday. Morning after morning, the flowers keep on falling…_

* * *

Mami poured out tea from her thermos into a cup, and drank.

"Say, Mami. There's something I've been meaning to ask you for quite some time, but never got the nerve to until now."

A hidden tension pervaded the blithe scenery.

Kyoko tore open a packet of curry bread and munched away slowly, taking her time to savour the taste and also to think about the question she was to pose to Mami.

There were a lot of things Kyoko wanted to ask Mami. She and Mami had quite a bit of history between them and they had their fair share of good times and bad times together. But their relationship was abruptly cut off when it hit a low point so there were many strings left untied.

"Ask away." she said in between sips.

Of all the things Kyoko wanted to ask Mami in the past but never had the chance to, one still stubbornly plagued her mind. Every time she saw Mami, the words of question would lodge themselves in Kyoko's throat but still she found it hard to let the words leave her lips.

Now, Kyoko knew better than to hesitate aimlessly and leave what needed to be said and heard, unsaid and unheard.

Mami put her cup down on the table to refill it with tea and it was then that Kyoko chose to speak her piece.

"How did your breasts get so big?"

Mami's hand, holding the thermos flask, jerked violently and tea sloshed out voluminously, causing the cup to overflow. Madoka's face bloomed to a pink like her hair. Sayaka gawked at Kyoko in disbelief. Hitomi, however, rested her eyes on Mami. Hitomi wanted answers.

"Were they always above-average? Even when you were young?"

To accompany her description, Kyoko put her hands over her chest and did a sequence of diverse hand motions. First, her hands moved together vertically in a curving motion to definitively depict the indulgent shape of Mami's breasts. Afterwards, she transitioned to making circular movements, fully exploring the contours and gradients of Kyoko's wonderfully accurate portrayal of Mami's mammies. Her left hand made anticlockwise circles while her right hand did clockwise circles, effectively impregnating the minds of many casual onlookers with gorgeous dreamscapes of lush natural sceneries that were pleasing to the eye and healing to the soul.

A thick fog of fluster hung in the atmosphere like smog.

"Kyoko! What the hell!"

Sayaka snapped out her daze and lashed at Kyoko

"I can't help it! I've known her for so long, but I just don't know how they keep getting bigger," Kyoko jerked her hands forward and away from her chest, "and bigger," and she did it again, stretching her arms as far out as she could, "and bigger!" And with that last count of 'bigger', Kyoko folded her arms back in before dramatically waving her arms wildly in the air with "Bam! Oppai explosion!"

_Whack!_

"Ah! Sayaka, don't be such a stiff! Just look at them oppai!"

Kyoko positioned her hands just below her breasts and attempted jiggling them. Unsurprisingly, she failed somewhat miserably.

"Look at mine!" Sayaka eyed Kyoko's chest with a strange look on her face, "They're unanimated! I know some boys who have bigger ones than I do!"

"Then look at Mami's!" Kyoko motioned a hand in the direction of Mami's mammies, "They bounce!"

_Whack!_

"Kyoko, enough with that!"

"If I may," Hitomi suddenly voiced out, much to Sayaka's surprise, "Sayaka, I think she does have a point."

Hitomi spoke no more. But in those few words, she had said all that she had to say.

"Hitomi?! Madoka, say something here!"

Sayaka guessed that Kyousuke must have had something to do with Hitomi's unusual behaviour. Hitomi never really gave that much attention to such matters before. She wondered if Kyousuke said something inappropriate to her. Maybe it was just that she felt insecure of herself, especially in Mami's company. Sayaka made a mental note to pry into it in the near future.

"Well…" Madoka hesitated for a while, "I think we shouldn't force Mami-san to disclose what she doesn't want to, but… if you want to, Mami-san, then by all means…"

Mami hesitated for a while before deciding to subtly shift the focus of the conversation away from her.

"I suppose regular exercise helps. Building the pectoral and chest muscles are good too."  
"Eh, really? What if you get hulky like one of those bodybuilders?" Sayaka questioned.  
"It's just an old wives' tale; very unlikely."

"Oi," Kyoko spoke up, "I'm very physically active, so why are mine still like this?"

It would appear as if Kyoko had completely disregarded the change in topic.

"Well, you could have just been born under a bad sign."

Mami took the chance to tick Kyoko off a bit.

"But, I heard that massages with certain scented oils do help."

With foxy half-lidded eyes, she looked at Kyoko and slowly cast her gaze upon Sayaka.

"They improve blood circulation to the bust area and thus promote growth, or so I've heard."

She smiled deviously. If Kyoko were still the same person she was back when she was close to Mami, Mami had full confidence that Kyoko would pull something on Sayaka.

Hitomi made a mental note of all that had been said, and closed her eyes for a while to mentally recap Mami's pointers.

"Ah, I think we should be returning soon. Afternoon classes are starting soon."

Madoka made a sheepish closure to the conversation, and nothing more was said of Mami's chest.

Kyoko gobbled up the last of her curry bread, and rose to her feet. The others followed and with Kyoko leading, they proceeded to leave the rooftop.

"Don't you think there're a lot of birds these days?"  
"Yeah, I suppose."

Left and right, flocks of crows and pigeons soared through the open skies as if they owned the patch of Mitakihara's airspace that hung above the school.

"I sometimes get to thinking…"  
"Yeah, Mami-san?" asked Sayaka.  
"What could they be chirping about?"  
"Maybe they're cursing at people," Hitomi curiously remarked.

Kyoko and gang was just about halfway to the entrance when three pigeons that were once perched on the mighty spires descended down gracefully on the pavement beneath them, some distance ahead and away from the five girls. They puffed out their chests to display their silky puffy plumage and the marvellously fine colours they flew on their soft mantles. After which, they sexily shook their bodies and ruffled their feathers to showcase their beautiful selves to the world.

Then they strode. On their feet, they strode along a course that ran perpendicular to that of the girls'. Why they chose to stride, that was and continues to be anybody's guess. Very coincidentally, as Sayaka calculated, the two groups would meet with a direct collision if they both maintained their current speed and trajectory.

Upon viewing the arrival of the triptych of glorious birds, all five members of the group each had crafted their own individual opinion.

Mami, with her keen sense of perception and eye for detail, observed the motion of the birds' flight and landing, all the while admiring their dainty grace.

Hitomi was pointedly reminded of a recent incident when a bird shat a shit that so shittily fell on smack on Hitomi's hair when she was on her way to school. Kyousuke, who was walking a step behind her, broke into restrained laughter and remarked: "Hitomi-chan, look on the bright side of things! They say it's good luck to have bird shit fall on you." Hitomi, however, did not at all share in his perky optimism and thus, at close proximity, she gifted him the warm brotherly gesture of a tight punch to the abdomen.

Madoka felt a slight urge to feed them crumbs, but she rationally knew that that would lead to an unhealthy relationship of dependency and need.

Kyoko, on the other hand, looked fairly pissed.

When she was younger, she recalled that no pigeon would dare to dawdle around and insouciantly amble on the ground so cavalierly. From where she came from, any pigeon would know better than to stand around so obnoxiously lest they became someone's dinner. In her mind, the pigeons in Mitakihara were very unassuming and proud. They took absolutely no heed of the food chain.

'Cheeky bastards!' she thought.

Quite apart from the fact that they showed such a disagreeable attitude, such low-born, high-falutin, rain-guttersnipes had no right whatsoever to literally stand in her way and obstruct her path. Kyoko had taken to a major irrational dislike for the pigeons, though she herself knew it not.

When the moment of truth was about to dawn upon them all, Madoka sounded, "Stop!"

"Why?" Kyoko put up a confrontational front to show her great displeasure.  
"I mean, they're trying to cross. It would be rude if we went on ahead."

In true Madoka spirit, one that is more accepting than the vastest of sea basins and wider than the most open and free of heavenly galleries, Madoka proposed an amiable solution that would end up pleasing both parties involved. However, Kyoko - a stark opponent of animal rights, inter-species equality, kindness for all things roaming the earth, and all things good and kind in general - could not accept Madoka's great solution in her bigotry and wanton childishness.

"They can fuckin' fly, Madoka. They should fuckin' fly! The fuck are they doing on the fucking ground?!"  
Exasperated, yet more than amused, Sayaka chastised Kyoko for, what cannot be anything other than, her bigotry, "Kyoko, are you seriously cursing over birds on the pavement?"

Sayaka thought this to truly be conduct unbecoming of Kyoko, and to Mami it was very much like peeping into a time capsule. In the past, Kyoko would roam the streets and pick fights with delinquents. Whenever Mami chided her for being so reckless, the girl would sometimes tell her, "I didn't like the way their face looked so I did it in for them."

Mami never knew how that sort of warped logic worked. She thought that perhaps, Kyoko was feeling the same sort of feckless irritation for the pigeons. Perhaps it was only that Kyoko's hunting instincts had gone into overdrive. Whatever it was, it was definitely absurd. Mami sighed as she watched the whole ordeal. She simply couldn't be very bothered to stop Kyoko, not anymore, so she decided to just let nature run its course.

The pigeon at the lead, turning its head towards Kyoko, appeared to Kyoko to be grinning like a half-wit. The next one unconcernedly pecked at the ground for crumbs. And the third wiped its filthy beak off its plumage. They had stopped right in front of the group.

Mami wondered how far Kyoko would go. Would she stop at shooing them away or would she venture as far as to inflict animal abuse?

"What the fuck! Scram!"

In her mind, Mami smirked. Kyoko looked laudably laughable, fighting with birds. How silly.

Becoming extraordinarily infuriated for who knows what good reason, Kyoko advanced one foot forward to place it right before the pigeons, whereupon the leading pigeon falteringly flapped its wings. Kyoko thought it was finally going to back down and make way, but all it did was shift its posture so as to present its arse towards Kyoko.

"Bitch," the leading pigeon chirped out.

"Bitch," the pigeon to its right repeated the crude remark.

"Bitch, bitch, bitch," the last one even went on to say it thrice.

And in unison, they started chirping, "Bitch, bitch, bitch, bitch, bitch…"

Not that Kyoko and gang knew what they were tweeting about. To them, it would have been no different if the pigeons had been discussing about Japan's high old-age dependency ratios and the issue of constitutional reform. It was all music to their ears.

"Now, now, Kyoko," Sayaka pacified the bird-squabbler and grabbed her by the hand, "Let's just leave them alone. Don't you like the sound of birds chirping?"

Forcefully pulling Kyoko away from the flock of pigeons, Sayaka safely diverted the group onto another path. Kyoko reluctantly followed, but she could help give one last glance at the dastardly birds.

"Bitch, bitch, bitch, bitch, bitch, bitch…"

Their beady, birdy, unblinking eyes followed Kyoko's figure as they innocuously chirped away with even greater vivacity, hopping away like the birds they were.

* * *

And so, lunch ended without much incidence and thereafter, the wildly insipid first and second afternoon class came to an end.

"Madoka~"  
"Hai?"

With the class mildly buzzing, Kyoko beckoned Madoka to go to her side. And go to her side, she did.

"Can you do me a favour?"  
"Of course."  
"Promise?"  
"Promise. What is it?"

She gestured Madoka to come closer to her. Madoka bent forwards and Kyoko whispered in her ear.

"Pinch Sayaka. On her butt, if you please."  
"E-eh?! What, why?"  
"Oh, not so loud. Never you mind why: just pinch her, please."

With that characteristic formal accent she used only she was up to making mischief, Kyoko beckoned Madoka to pinch Sayaka's posterior.

Contrary to Kyoko's staggering aplomb, Madoka let out an incredulous gasp in response to Kyoko's ignominious directive. It would be an understatement to call it conduct unbecoming of Madoka if she were to do as Kyoko wished. Technically, she'd be committing a felony; Sayaka could charge her in court on account of molestation. Then again, it wouldn't be too bad. Sayaka had tried, and on multiple occasions succeeded, to feel Madoka up. Sayaka really couldn't blame her for one small provocative action after all the liberties she had taken with regards to intrusive physical contact.

"What if it's uncomfortable for her?" Madoka asked Kyoko, knowing fully well that people would most probably feel very uncomfortable and outraged if somebody pinched their ass without warning.  
"Hasn't it been said that life begins at the end of your comfort zone? Besides, we're all friends, aren't we? Tis' just a friendly gesture."

Madoka reflected that either Kyoko thought it was alright to do such discourteous things to Sayaka, or that Kyoko had a frenetically perverted understanding of what friends could do to each other.

"Go, go, now, quickly! While she's distracted."

Flicking her hand in Sayaka's general direction, who happened to be talking up a classmate, smirking Kyoko directed Madoka to go and pinch her ass.

Hesitant as she was, Madoka inconspicuously crept up to Sayaka's back at Kyoko's behest.

She furtively glanced at Sayaka's bottom. Then she glanced at Kyoko who, upon meeting her eyes, gave her an assuring nod and smiled warmly: as if to say, "You can do it, Madoka! I believe in you!"

And it would have certainly touched her heart and raised her spirits if not for the inescapable fact that Kyoko was encouraging her to something so saucy.

'Uuh, gomen ne, Sayaka-chan,' she made a silent apology to Sayaka who was engrossed in her conversation.

Acting very naturally, she turned to walk back to Kyoko. But as she took the first step, she discreetly swung her left hand backwards and pinched Sayaka with the tips of her fingers.

She grazed the fabric of Sayaka's skirt and prudently decided to pinch before her hand hit the flesh. It was a win-win situation and one she was quite proud of coming up with. Sayaka wouldn't have her posterior pinched and at the same time, Kyoko's request would have been fulfilled.

But with one look at Kyoko, Madoka could tell that Kyoko wasn't satisfied.

"She didn't squeal out anything."

Kyoko's true intentions came to light. Madoka briefly puzzled over why Kyoko wanted Sayaka to squeal. To publicly embarrass her? Not very likely, thought Madoka. To… To… Nothing else came to mind. In the first place, forcing someone to squeal by way of molest didn't seem at all reasonable or ethical.

"No, she didn't squeal." Madoka affirmed.

Kyoko breathed out loudly and looked down at her notebook, immersed in deep thought for several seconds. Then she raised her head to look at Madoka and dreadful words came out of her mouth.

"Now give it a squeeze. Her butt, that is."

Madoka was naïve to think that simply fulfilling Kyoko's condition of 'pinching Sayaka's butt' was enough to free herself from Kyoko's outlandish requests.

"Squeeze?!"  
"Squeeze!" Kyoko made a disturbing squeezing motion with her hands.

"W-why me?"  
"There is a reason and the reason is a very good reason, I assure you with the toppermost and betterest assurances, but I'll answer your questions later. First, squeeze that butt. And don't tell her I asked you to do it."  
"Do I have to?"  
"You're my friend, aren't you? Friends are there to help each other out."  
"I-I see."

Madoka couldn't argue with that logic. Madoka could have outright denied Kyoko but somewhere along the line, she accepted Kyoko's logic that 'because it's Sayaka, it's fine'. In the back of her mind, Madoka knew that if it had been anyone other than a good friend of hers, the consequences would be dire. But it was Sayaka, so there was no harm done.

"Now go!" Kyoko spun Madoka around by the hips and gave her an energetic push forth.

Nevertheless, to squeeze was a far bolder action than to pinch. So after fretting for a while as she stood behind Sayaka, pretending to focus on other things, she slowly and stealthily moved her hand closer to her target. Remorse was no longer in Madoka's mind, for those few moments like the golden morning dew only to be seen when the sun first peeks out from the horizon. She was prepared.

Then she squeezed hard.

"Uwa! What the hell?!"

Sayaka yelped loud. Kyoko, smirking by the side-lines, observed that Sayaka's 'uwa' sounded impressively manly.

For added measure, Madoka squeezed again. Whatever 'measure' Madoka was basing her decision on – no, it matters little what Madoka was thinking. Madoka made a good decision, and that was that.

Sayaka lurched forward in shock and repugnance.

Then Sayaka turned around.

"Madoka?!"

Sayaka's rage was quelled when she saw that Madoka was the one who had done the deed, and not some fantastically perverse somebody. But she couldn't discount that maybe Madoka was fantastically perverse. She could have been a closet pervert.

"Eheheh, sumimasen, Sayaka-chan~ It was an accident."

Madoka sheepishly told her it was all an accident. Then she winked at Sayaka.

Onlookers who had turned their heads round to check the disturbance out, one by one curtly went back to minding their own business after they heard it was an accident.

But Sayaka had her doubts. Madoka squeezed her butt hard twice without any pretext whatsoever, and told her it was just an accident. However, seeing Madoka uncharacteristically wink left her lost for words. Madoka had effectively shut her up by following one absurd action with another.

"Hear that, Madoka? Sayaka?"

Kyoko called out to them from her seat. She rose and walked to the two.

She marked her grand entrance with an opening question, "Now tell me, is that 'Uwa' an interjection or an adverb?"

The question was so abrupt that neither Madoka nor Sayaka could say anything. Madoka couldn't follow Kyoko's train of thought any longer. Did Kyoko get her to grope Sayaka just to provide herself with a good timing to pop a linguistics question? Sayaka too was caught off-guard by Kyoko's sudden question, but putting two and two together, she came to the conclusion that Kyoko had put Madoka up to groping her. Or… well, she didn't want to think too much about it.

"Well, what do you think?" she asked as she sat on Sayaka's chair.  
"It's an interjection, I guess," Madoka replied.  
"What's the point of all this?"

Kyoko turned left to face an irate Sayaka. Ignoring Sayaka, she turned back to Madoka.

"Madoka."  
"Yes?"  
"Is that 'Yes' an interjection or an adverb? Sayaka, what d'you think?"  
"Wouldn't you just call it a manner of speech to show polite interest in this case?" Madoka replied.  
"Then if that's the case, what's there to stop me from claiming that all words are simply manners of speech, or in other words, pragmatics?"

Discontented at how the conversation was going off on a tangent, specifically: Kyoko's lopsided tangent, Sayaka squeezed herself into the conversation.

"Well… how can you say 'Yes' and 'Uwa' is a part of grammar?" she said.  
"Yes, I can. See? I've modified the meaning of 'can' with the word 'yes'. So it can be an adverb. Yes?"  
"Yes…"  
"Ah! There, that 'yes' served only to express emotion, so isn't it an interjection?"  
"Yes… Wait, no!"  
"No?"  
"No!"  
"No no? Not 'no' or 'no' and 'no'? And what does each 'no' function as then? Double interjections or an adverb to an adverb?"  
"Gah! Hell, why did you even need Madoka to grope my butt for this stupid word game of yours? You could've just gotten someone to say 'Yes' or say 'No'!"  
"Well, I did it for the lulz."

The truth had been layed out for all to see. She had done it all for the lulz.

"The lulz, you say?"

Sayaka's tone grew noticeably darker.

"If I do say so myself."  
"Say, Kyoko?"  
"Yes?" she replied blithely, proud as a child who had managed to beg her mother to get her an ice-cream.

Then Kyoko felt a warm, firm touch at her shoulders. That firm touch quickly turned into a grip. That grip quickly bled into a most unscrupulous hold, overflowing with warm feelings and sisterly love.

"Ah, ah, ah, ittai! Ittai!"

Kyoko had forgotten: what is sweet now, can turn so sour.

"Say, Kyoko, is that 'ittai' an interjection or an adverb?"

Kyoko struggled under Sayaka's deathly hold, but to no avail. Just as a boa constrictor wraps around its prey the more it struggles, Sayaka applied greater leverage the more Kyoko tried to squirm out of Sayaka's grasp. Kyoko wasn't the only one who was going to get it good.

Sayaka shot an evil eye at Madoka. Madoka smiled at her with a smile as bright as the sun. Keep on smiling, Madoka. Keep on smiling.

"Ah, what did I do to deserve this?" Kyoko managed to squeeze a few words out when Sayaka was finally done with her.  
"For a start, you groped my butt."  
"And where exactly is the problem?"  
"You really are a slob, you know that? And get off my chair."  
"Hai, hai."

Kyoko limply got off of Sayaka's rightful place. Surprisingly, she could still stand without wobbling.

"Ah, you guys."  
"Hitomi~"  
"Hitomi-chan~"  
"Where were you?"  
"I went to the toilet."

'So Hitomi didn't see anything,' Madoka heaved a sigh of relief. This incident was going to be easily forgotten as a fun time had by all, so long as Kyoko and Sayaka didn't start spreading the story around like gospel.

"Ah!"

Quickly regaining her vigour, despicable it may be for Sayaka, Kyoko came up with another gimmick.

"Sayaka."

Kyoko, with wide eyes full of some emotion like passion, looked off into some unknown distance.

"What is it now?"  
"I'm sorry, Sayaka. But I must go." Her voice, tinged with sorrow, was firm and showed her unwavering nerves of steel.  
"Where are you going?"  
"I'm going away. I'm leaving you," then Kyoko held her hands and scooted close to her face as she said, "But I'll back."  
"Kyoko… don't go."  
"I'll return; I promise. So wait, until I come back to your side and we forget the tears we cried."

Straightening her back, tall and firm, Kyoko turned to walk to the exit with the expression of a man lightened of all the burdens he'd tarried. She didn't look back, not even once.

"This is – goodbye."  
"No! Kyoko!"

Sayaka reached out and grabbed Kyoko's arm. She wouldn't let go.

* * *

_Would Sayaka have let go if she screamed, 'Let go!'? Maybe Sayaka would have._

* * *

"Sayaka… I really have to go."

Kyoko turned back.

"Don't go! I need you! I need you by my side!"

Sayaka pressed her face on Kyoko's sleeve, as if to hide her tears.

"No… Sayaka, I seriously need to go to the toilet. It's getting urgent."

Sayaka looked up at Kyoko.

She said with emotion, "I'll never let you go."

"Sayaka…" Kyoko's desperation, in apparent urge for the loo, seeped into her voice; her voice toed the fine line separating passion and anguish.

And Sayaka's earnest, pleading eyes bore to the very depths of Kyoko's soul. Sayaka was always a good actor.

Didn't she know?

* * *

_After that, it became as quiet as a night when winter's icy wind suddenly drops and the snow falls soundlessly._

* * *

**A/N: **It took me a lot of agony to decide which chapter to post.

Keep in mind this is my first fanfic, and I am a crappy writer either ways.

**NEXT CHAPTER:**

**Chapter IVB  
Shower With Love**

"Watch your boobs, Mami. Wouldn't want them to fall off, y'know?"


	7. IVB: Shower With Love

Again, it was evening. Finally, the school day was done.

The leaves, green and brown, shook frailly in the high wind. Branches bowed in obeisance to the mighty elements of nature, and some even prostrated. Kyoko wondered when they'd snap into two, under the heavy burden of their worship. Maybe in threes, fours, or fifty-tens and thousand-hundreds.

"Listen Sayaka, I've got something important to ask you."

It must have been wildly noisy outside, given all that wind. Kyoko wouldn't know better. Tucked in the warm cosiness of the school's hallways, outside interference was all but blocked out. Certainly, the day was a quiet day. Kyoko mused as such in her thought, as she walked in the long empty hallways of Mitakihara Middle School with Sayaka.

They passed by glass wall after glass wall. Blue nightlight was just beginning to separate itself from the shadow of the sunset that bled like ink on a parchment.

"Are you, no, will you…"

Kyoko walked at the upper right diagonal of Sayaka, two steps ahead of her. She seemed to be fumbling over her words. A difficult expression filled her face; she furrowed her brows slightly and her eyes were half-lidded as she thought hard over what she was going to say. Seeing her bite her lip, Sayaka wondered just what could be troubling Kyoko so.

"Mm?"  
"Well, I was just going to ask… to ask…"

She shifted her face so that Sayaka could not see it.

In regular buildings, one would say that rectangular boxes of light shone on them intermittently as they walked down the hallways. But in Mitakihara Middle School, it was instead sharp thin lines of blackness that drifted by in the shadow of the dimming light.

"I… you… um…"

It seemed like Kyoko was getting all shy and clammy over something concerning both Sayaka and Kyoko. Now Sayaka was a very sharp and observant person, and even more so when it came to people she was close to.

Sayaka observed Kyoko carefully. Her footsteps got smaller. She brought her hands together by her navel and started twiddling her thumbs. And her eyes –

Kyoko halted in her tracks and turned her head to face Sayaka.

Her eyes twinkled with the starlight of a million years, waving like the moon's reflection on the black velvet seas. But then she cast her eyes downwards, as if she would not be able to look straight at Sayaka when the words came out of her mouth. Her cheeks lit up a faint scarlet blush, and this only fanned the fires of Sayaka's curiosity. What was Kyoko going tell her? The silence left Sayaka on the edge of her metaphorical seat.

"Your parents are out on a business trip tonight, right? So we have the whole house to ourselves then. And…"

Sayaka's home was practically shared with Kyoko now. The household had already gotten very comfortable with Kyoko's presence. On some rare days when Kyoko wasn't with them in the mornings or the nights, Sayaka's parents would ask about her whereabouts as if it were a most natural thing for them to be concerned over.

"Well do you want to… will you…"

It was very uncharacteristic of Kyoko to be so uncertain of her words. In a minute moment, hordes of subconscious suggestions whizzed past her mind like locusts in migration, blotting out the sky of her clear frame of mind. What could they possibly do in Sayaka's humble shack when there's no one around?

"I want to…"

But what Kyoko said next, Sayaka could never have expected.

"Ah, that's right. I wanna go to the supermarket on the way back so we can get some groceries for cooking. D'you want to cook tonight or should I do it?"

Not with that gullible, presumptuous mind of hers.

Kyoko had just momentarily forgotten what she was about to say. So she thought long and hard, retracing her chain of memories to recall what triggered her train of thought. That seeming trace of redness on her cheeks had all but vanished; all along it was simply a figment of Sayaka's imagination.

Kyoko was a good actor. Didn't she know?

And it wasn't before long that the others had caught up with the two actors and joined them on their way home.

Indeed, it was a strange day – just like any other day in the life.

* * *

"Ah, yea, Madoka," Kyoko called out in the peaceable silence.

"Yes?" she answered.

Madoka always replied to whoever called upon her. Kyoko liked that about Madoka – she was easy to approach; she was willing to listen; she answered to those who asked.

"Didn't you have that lil' rooftop meeting yesterday? How'd it go?"

Hitomi and Sayaka looked at Madoka, keenly expectant to hear how her, hopefully romantic, encounter went.

"Was it a confession? Did you reject him?"

Sayaka, who was feeling playful, quickly jumped the gun and shot interrogative questions at Madoka. Hitomi only nodded once. As polite as that may seem, it was a signal for Madoka to hurry up and spill the beans. As always, Hitomi-ojou-chan was masterful in making the rudest and coarsest of expressions seem elegant and gentle. Praise be to Hitomi-ojou-chan and that sissy-violin-boy of hers.

At the receiving end of a great amount of pressure from three friendly faces, Madoka answered without giving much thought to her words.

"Well, I met Homura-chan-"

"Akemi Homura?! So it was a girl!" Kyoko shouted out the instant that name fell upon her ears.

"And all the time you two kept staring at each other… I can't believe it!" Sayaka squealed, "Your hearts are connected to one another's and you two can engage in telepathy?"

Not to be easily outdone, Kyoko made her own valued contributions to the profane discussion.

"So intimate! How? When? What did you guys do yesterday at night? I bet you guys did something or other – what with that devilish mind of yours, Madoka. You must've lured her into yer home and-" with that, Kyoko placed a biscuit in between her teeth and crunched it loudly.

"What if they did it in the open?" Sayaka suggested to Kyoko.

"Uh-"

Before Madoka could say her piece, Kyoko responded, "What if they did it in the road?"

"A girl!"–Hitomi gasped and, in her shock of undefinable magnitudes, rambled off like an old deranged conservative man protesting against societal reforms while looking to the heavens for divine providence–"That's enough! You can't be serious! You're both girls! Girls can't love girls! Girls can't love girls!"

* * *

**Chapter VI  
Girls Can't Love Girls – Humans Without Humanity**

**A Well-Meaning Dissertation on the Moral Excesses of Mankind in the 21****st**** Century**

* * *

Placing her hands to her cheeks, Hitomi's jaw dropped hideously in mock horror and anxiety. Such intense emotions of distress – the likes of which were only to be captured by Edvard Munch's The Scream – can little be adequately expressed by way of words.

So here, because of this writer's inadequacy, I urge you readers to vividly imagine first the grotesque screaming figure of 'The Scream', and then the elegant face of Hitomi. Now, merge the two together to obtain Hitomi's expression at the time.

Indeed, such was the extent of gruelling disgust and existential disdain Hitomi had to suffer. Her heart beat irregularly, and her vision turned a shade of yellow, then a hue of blue. As if faders had been used to augment Hitomi's aural perception, all the voices seemed so far and all the noises seemed so close – close enough to touch. She could see the sound of Kyoko's voice, she could listen to Mami's face, and she could practically taste the yuri floating in the air.

"Calm down, Shizuki-san."

A comforting voice, Tomoe Mami's, reached its bright hand out to still Hitomi's shaken mind, and repelled the attacking forces of evil. The girls could always count on Mami to be the voice of reason.

"For all we know," Mami said, "she might just be a man."

Mami really did well as the voice of reason and wisdom.

Mami's suggestion was definitely deserving of all the critical acclaim the world had to offer. It was a diamond in the rough, a radiant gem of unparalleled wisdom and snarky wit belonging with the most famous and well-meaning of parables and ideas. Mami, in that moment in time, was no less sagacious than King Solomon of Israel, and her suggestion, no less momentous and inspiring than the biblical Judgement of Solomon.

Mami had taken Hitomi's concerns into account, and also allowed for Madoka and Homura to remain together in a solution that pleased, and astounded, everyone.

"You mean, a futanari?"

And Sayaka was always a lost cause, even from the beginning.

Sighing, Madoka waited for the din to die down before recollecting to them what exactly went down.

* * *

"_Homura-chan?"_

_The cool wind blew across the rooftop, tenderly caressing Madoka's tresses._

_Homura looked up at her._

"_Madoka."_

_Snip. Snip. Snip._

_The blades of wind and boats of air seemed to carry along with it the sound of snipping scissors snipping. _

_Homura had a gentle smile on her face. She sat alone on a stone bench by the far left of the long narrow rooftop._

"_There you are. I've waited for a very long time. It's been a long, long, long time."_

_Alone, in the blue, she sat – waiting for the night to ascend. Homura's words set sail into the paper-white night._

"_S-Sorry," Madoka awkwardly apologized._

_Like a crystal on the ground, the stars twinkled with such force that they threatened to charge into the background of the sky from their resting places._

"_No need to apologize. Come here and take a seat for a while. You must be tired."_

_Like a crystal quill in motion, her see-through-coloured words danced in the crimson moonrise._

_She patted on the empty seat beside her, and she smiled. _

_And surely enough, Madoka was feeling tired. Perhaps she was all too caught up in school matters to have noticed earlier on._

_Madoka followed her lead and sat herself down beside Homura in the darkness._

"_Um, Homura-chan?"  
"Yes, Madoka?" Homura no longer faced Madoka, and instead gazed out into the sky she loved to gaze at._

"_I just wanted to ask you," then she paused.  
"Go on."  
"…why did you call me up here? I mean, it's not that I don't like it here with you, but, just, I'm wondering if you had any special reason to want to see me here alone," she hesitantly belted out, her voice getting softer with every word she said._

_Homura continued to stare into space for a few seconds after Madoka had said that._

_Then turning to meet her eyes, she playfully told her, "Is it such a sin to want to spend more time with a dear friend of mine?"_

_Few times did Homura smile, and few times did Homura meet Madoka. Surely, Homura kept her distance. Surely, Madoka too should have kept her distance._

"_Ehehe," Madoka giggled, "it's fine."_

_While she felt rather touched at Homura's declaration, she thought that there was some deeper meaning to her words. Somehow, she thought that her words were tinged with a little bit of wistfulness and nostalgia._

_There Homura stared out at the heavens again, all alone riding her own train of thought. Madoka thought that Homura must have been through a lot in her life, for her to have become the person she was. It sometimes sounded like she didn't have a care in the world. It sometimes sounded like she carried the weight of the world on her shoulders._

"_But actually, I wasn't the one whom you were supposed to meet," she spake, looking off into the yonder – beyond the border._

"_Eh? So it was someone else?"_

_Madoka looked around. There was no one else around in the light, in the darkness._

"_She was here just a while ago. Maybe she's still here."  
"There's no one here."  
"Then I guess she's gone."_

_Then Homura looked back at Madoka – saving the memory of the star. Sometimes, Madoka hardly understood Homura. Was she deliberately making it difficult for Madoka to understand her? Maybe. Maybe not. Madoka wouldn't ask anyways._

"_She told me she didn't need to see you anymore and then she left."_

"_But don't worry. When the time comes, she'll probably look for you again."_

"_She – she, is she, you know, in love with me?"_

"_Hahaha," Akemi laughed heartily, for the first time in very long, "she does."_

"_She is?"  
"Of course she does. You're a sweet child, Madoka. Everyone – no, everything loves you. Everyone wants a piece of you, you know. Everyone's life changed when they met you."_

"_Mou, Homura-chan, you know that wasn't what I meant."_

_Dismissing Akemi Homura's flattery, Madoka looked the other way for a short instant. It was so obvious to her that Akemi Homura was joking around. Madoka knew that even Akemi Homura, for all her tight-lipped glory, knew how to crack a joke or two._

"_I know I know very well."_

_Then Homura smiled again._

"_Then do you know why she wanted to see me?"  
"I do."_

_Shifting her gaze slightly down, she continued, "But it's a secret."_

"_Mou, Homura-chan? Tell me~" Madoka playfully pouted and nudged Homura's shoulder._

"_Over my dead body," Akemi joked, a faraway smile etched on her close face._

* * *

"Eh, so he stood up on you!"

Madoka had strategically omitted the fact that it was a female whom she was supposed to be meeting, to prevent everyone from getting ahead of themselves.

"I guess he did," she replied to Sayaka.

Kyoko wondered if Madoka was looking forward to it deep inside. Maybe she was. Maybe she wasn't. Kyoko wouldn't ask her anyways.

"Mou," Madoka spoke up again, "why is everyone acting like Sayaka today?"

"What's that supposed to mean?" she snapped back.

"Sayaka, what are you? Too stupid to understand?"

"Argh, Kyoko! I've had enough of you for the day! You're acting just like a dog that doesn't learn its place today! No dinner for you tonight!"

"She's just following your example," Hitomi informed Sayaka.

"You may be the one chewing her head out right now, but in the veil of the night, it may be she who chews on your bones." In true poetic fashion, Mami masked her words behind a smokescreen of metaphors.

A warm blood-red sunset stretched as far as the eye could see. Certainly, the day was a quiet day, with only the girls' lively chatter to fill in the empty spaces of –

* * *

_Bong. Bong. Bong._

* * *

Kyoko turned, for she thought she heard the bell toll.

But as it turned out, it was only the sound of the ground rising to catch the leaves suspended in mid-air.

"Ah."

Mami stopped moving forward. She remembered.

"What's up?" asked Sayaka.

"I forgot the time. Nagisa's probably going to be reaching home before I do."

"Need a lift? I think Kyoko left her bike at school the other day, so it should still be here."

"Yeah, it ought to be," Kyoko replied.

"Then, thanks. I appreciate the help," said Mami.

And as always, it was an evening of no shadows.

"Don't mind. What're friends for?"

Then, Kyoko took the first step out into the cold evening underneath the golden throne of a pastel sky in an autumn of emotion.

* * *

"Hop on."  
"Hopping on."

All the others had gone ahead before them.

"Where to?"  
"Anywhere."  
"Then let's go home."  
"Home, it is."

Mami got on behind Kyoko, seated sideways with her legs crossed.

"Ready?"  
"Ready."

With her hands on the handles, Kyoko levelled the bicycle and pushed off with fluid motion.

"Watch your breasts. Y' wouldn't them to fall off now."  
"It's fine. When that happens, I can just grow another pair."  
"Cheeky bitch."

Off they went, with the sun beating down on their faces, the stars raring to fill their dreams, and the jingle-jangle of children's chatter.

* * *

"How have you been lately?"

Mami angled her head closer to Kyoko's and faced her back.

How long had it been since they had that falling out? A year? Two years? It certainly felt much longer than that. Kyoko could hardly remember what they fought for and what they disputed over. But it was certain to her that even after all the time they spent apart and estranged, Mami still remained the person she was before.

Ironically, when Mami and Kyoko reunited several months ago, they hadn't so much as asked each other a simple 'how were you'. Kyoko only took note of Mami's presence, which came to her as a slight surprise, and the two bled into the group dynamic seamlessly like two well-oiled cogs in a machine, chatting each other up when in view of others as if it were the most natural thing to do.

In her heart, Kyoko laughed at both herself and Mami for not having had the courage to break the ice that stood between them for so long. They had come all that long a way only to end up nowhere.

"Fine," Kyoko tersely replied, not taking her eyes off the bridge they were about to cross.

Thinking that to be the end of the conversation, Mami let her head down and cast her eyes to her feet, waving inches above the paved stone ground.

Despite sitting shoulder to shoulder with Kyoko, with the warmth of her body and the dying heat of the sun seeping into her bones, Mami felt a little familiar coldness sweeping through her bones.

And Mami frequently asked upon herself: where was that friend she once found in Kyoko? She had lost her a long time ago.

"What about you?"

With a jolt, the bicycle glided for a moment as it crossed the threshold of the stone pavement and went onto the long arched bridge.

"Huh?"

Surprised, Mami turned her head towards Kyoko.

"What about you?" Kyoko repeated, "How's life?"

For the first time since the two strangers reunited, Mami felt as though the two had finally met face to face – without hiding behind Sayaka, Madoka, Hitomi, or any other pretext they conveniently used to dodge the issue of their ancient undead pasts.

"Rosy."

Veiled behind the cover of silence and the jingle-jangle of bicycle rails, Kyoko pedalled onwards.

'I'm really a fool,' Kyoko jested in her heart.

Kyoko couldn't remember how long it had been since she had a casual, heart-to-heart talk with that estranged spouse of hers. She was always clumsy with her words, much unlike Mami, so she often found it terribly difficult to convey her emotions to other people. But Kyoko knew better than to hesitate aimlessly and leave what needed to be said and heard, unsaid and unheard. No matter how she struggled to find the words, she didn't want to end up regretting not smoothing things over with Mami.

For what reason did the two good friends split apart? Neither Kyoko nor Mami could remember.

"Mami."  
"Yes?"

Mami turned to look back at the way they came from. Certainly, they came a long, hard way together.

"How rosy is rosy?"

Late as it may have been to reconcile, it was better late than never.

"Very rosy."

Still, Kyoko was at a loss on how to go about driving the conversation forward. Months, or years, of alienation made it tough for her to gauge how she should make amends with Mami. She could have started off with a heartfelt apology to Mami.

"Care to elaborate?"

But she was shy.

"Everything's fine. I'm still alive."  
"Yes, you are."

Time heals all wounds and bends all knees, Mami once heard.

Could it be that Kyoko had gotten over her family's deaths since she broke ties with Mami? Had she accepted the truth for what it was, and had she swallowed the bitter pill? Looking at Kyoko's steady back, Mami could come to no certain conclusion.

"It's strange, you know."  
"What is?"  
"Where's the white elephant?"

Mami remembered that several months ago, after her parents had gone away, there stood a large white elephant at the top of the hill. Surrounded by bushes of violet violets and minty peppermints, the blank white elephant stuck out like a sore thumb, the empty patch of space in the midst of a torrent of colour.

"It's probably gon' back to the forest with its momma."

'Momma', Kyoko had said. Mami never heard the word release itself from Kyoko's mouth till then.

Perhaps Kyoko really had gotten over it all.

"But it's made of plastic and metal."

Perhaps Kyoko learnt how to live after all. Mami rested her eyes and leaned on Kyoko's back.

"You shouldn't discriminate, y'know."

How long ago had it been since Mami saw Kyoko's family?

"Besides, just imagine – a family of plastic-metal elephants."

It must've been very long.

"A family, set apart from the other elephants, sticking together – doesn't it touch your heart?"

Neither Mami nor Kyoko could remember when it was.

"Yes, it does. It does sound sad, but it is touching."

It seemed like it was only yesterday that Mami had seen Kyoko's Papa, Mama, and her sister, Momo.

Her Papa was a nice and kind man, if only a little unwise.  
Her Mama was a sweet woman.  
Momo – Momo – Mami, in her drowsiness, wondered how she was doing. Was she doing alright? She hadn't heard from her for ages. Mami took a real good liking to the girl.

"Kyoko."  
"What is it?"  
"How's Momo been doing? Is she faring well enough in school?"

A cool autumn breeze blew by, sweeping Kyoko's bangs away. Mami must have been feeling sleepy, to forget important facts. Perhaps Mami had simply forgotten.

"She's doin' right and good. Much better than this failure of a sister, anyhow."

Maybe it would have been better if Kyoko had also forgotten.

"Ah, is that so?"

Mami looked down at the water flowing under the bridge. From time to time, she'd see broken catches of her reflection before the water carried it away. Her heavy eyelids collapsed, and the bridge of her vision crumbled.

"Yea. She's landed herself in a better place."  
"Well, good for her."

Kyoko was always a kind girl. Mami knew that very well, and dare she say, better than anyone else. Kyoko had probably gotten it from her father, that long-extinguished fire of unmitigated compassion which grew so low – bright in sight, yet cold to touch.

Momo too, was a good-natured lass.

"She's a sweet girl, isn't she?"  
"Yea, she is."

Sometimes, Kyoko felt like giving Mami a hard punch in the face.

"What's she doing now?"

This, however, was not one of those times.

"Pushin' up the daisies."  
"I see. Gardening must be a fun thing to do. Kaname-san, Madoka, she also does gardening, doesn't she?"  
"Yes, she does."  
"Then I suppose, she's also pushing up the daisies."

A rare scent of long-lost violets and peppermints drifted from the city's parks.

"You know, Kyoko," Mami said, "you should tell her."

The bike gave a short rattle as it passed over the bridge.

"You should tell your sister. That she's a good girl. That she's a sweet girl."

The wind billowed forth and carried Mami's words off into the yonder, where they would be lost forever.

"You know, you should tell her while you still can."

Reaching a bend, Kyoko made a slow left turn.

"She looks like she's embarrassed of you, but she really isn't."

Then Kyoko sped up a bit upon getting onto a straight path.

"She's actually really happy to have you as a sister."

Did Kyoko remember the – ah, it's starting to get dark.

"She loves you very much. I know you used to act a bit spoiled. But she loves you very much."

Yes, she did. It was very nice indeed, being under the shade and – beneath the stars –

"You're her sister. Sometimes you think that you know the most about her, because she's your sister."

They were fast approaching a playground. It was no ordinary playground. It was part of a school compound – a school for the disabled and mentally challenged. Kyoko once rudely thought of it to be a 'crackerbox palace'. But that was when she didn't know any better.

"But the truth is: people are often blind to certain things about the people they're closest to, the people they love, and the people they care for."

Now Kyoko knew, everyone was just kooky on their own terms.

The playground, mosaicked with lurid patterns of red, yellow and green, was empty. Very often, Kyoko could hear shrieks of delight and enjoyment echoing from that enclosure. Kyoko always thought it was a warm, funny place to be.

"So, Kyoko, take this piece of advice from your senior, however little you may think of her as a senior-"

Did you know? Kyoko used to drop by Mitakihara City with her family when she was a child.

She remembered fondly watching people twice her age, squealing in exhilaration as they slid down the slide and spun the carousel. They would sometimes cry in sadness, a pure misunderstood sadness. Momo would tell her not to look. But there was something that fascinated Kyoko about such a sweet childlike innocence.

"Tell your sister you love her."

But on that day, there was nobody home. The higgledy-piggledy colours of the lonesome place seemed to speak volumes about the sort of place it was. Its silence was so alluring; Kyoko could almost hear it speak to her.

"Look around you now. There's so much time to make up for everywhere you turn – time we have wasted on the way."

No one was around that day, yet everything sparkled like shining castles in the sky. Concrete coloured walls that reflected the supple light looked as if they were shouting, "Here I am!"

The playground appeared to be a very vibrant place, with the background of a shining sun.

"Kyoko. Do you understand what I have said, Kyoko? Kyoko, tell your sister you love her. Tell her before she never gets to hear it. Do you understand what I am saying, Kyoko? Kyoko?"

It looked like a place where white plastic-metal elephants would play. Kyoko could picture it in her mind.

A Papa elephant looking over from the bench, reading the papers.  
A Mama elephant, right beside the Papa elephant, looking at the flowers moving in the wind.  
A Momo elephant sitting on the swings.

And a Kyoko elephant.

"I do," Kyoko replied, hair fluttering in the high wind.

The evening madder sky looked a little funny from Kyoko's side of the world. She could not tell between the altostratus and whatever lay beyond; no, not at all. Was it yellow or was it blue? Everything was, she supposed.

"Tell your sister. Tell your mother. Tell your father. Tell your friends you love them. Tell Sayaka you love her. Do you understand?"  
"I do," Kyoko replied, hands laxly gripping the handlebars.

Kyoko spent a good few seconds trying to distinguish the two, the yellow from the blue, before she resigned herself to the impossibility of the task. After all, she would rather not have done it.

"Even if you end up fighting, you just have to live and let live."  
"I know," Kyoko replied, slowing down the bicycle.  
"The best you can do is forgive."

The air felt nice that day.

"Because, your sister, your parents, and even Sayaka – they might just go before you do, before you get to tell them what you have to. It's scary, but it's true."  
"Stop talking like you're about to die."  
"Handle them with care while they're still there. Shower them with love while you're still here. Did I make myself clear?"

A flock of leaves, brown and yellow, floated upstream on a sea of sky.

"Are you sleepy, Mami?"  
"I'm not sleepy. I'm not sleepy."  
"That's what you always say when you are. Come on, get off. We're here."

Just like that, without forewarning or closure, the bicycle for two stopped its tour.

"Go on. Nagisa's waiting," Kyoko gently said.

After helping the drowsy Mami up to her feet and seeing her into the apartment building, Kyoko departed for Sayaka's house.

For a second, Kyoko pondered if Mami had noticed that they had been riding an old bicycle she had lent to Kyoko all those years ago. It was most likely that she hadn't.

One day, Kyoko would have to return it to Mami.

'But there's no rush,' she thought, 'I've got all the time in the world.'

And so, with the jingle-jangle of apartment gates and the sound of children laughing well behind her, Kyoko set off for home.

* * *

**Chapter VI**

* * *

_Ding dong._

"Who is it?"

Pressing a button on the intercom, Sayaka could see Kyoko standing at her doorstep.

Turning on the microphone, she spoke once more, _"Who is it?"_

"Bloody hell, Sayaka. I know you can see me in there, so let me in."

"_What are you here for?"_

"I'm here for your heart."

"_No. Go home."_

'_Bzzt.'_

Silence ensued. Kyoko could not even hear any retreating footsteps to indicate that Sayaka had left. For all she knew, Sayaka could have been waiting by the intercom, admiring Kyoko's reaction. Well, Kyoko wasn't going to let her have her way.

"Help, Sayaka! Help!"

"_Bzzt – I don't need any – bzzt."_

Sayaka was definitely doing this on purpose.

"Hurry up! Or I'll huff, and I'll puff, and I'll blow your house down!"

"_Bzzt – Well, alright. Only if you answer three questions correctly."_

"C'mon!"

"_What"–_Sayaka paused before continuing in a sharp voice reminiscent of a gremlin–_"is your name?"_

"Sakura Kyoko."

"_What – is your quest?"_

"To steal your heart."

"_Goodbye."_

"Wait, wait! It was just a joke."

"_Oh, ok. What – is your quest?"_

"To get into your pants."

"_What –"_

"Yea, yea, on with it already."

"_Hmph – what is the airspeed velocity of an unladen swallow?"_

"It's – wait a sec. How the fuck do you expect me to answer that?!"

"_You shouldn't have slept through Math class, Kyoko. Shame on you, Kyoko."_

"If the teacher's teaching this sort of fuckery and gobbledygook, why wou-"

"_Go home – bzzt."_

The line went dead.

"Tch," Kyoko clicked her tongue in annoyance.

_Ding dong._

No response.

_Ding dong._

'Maybe I'll press it again,' she thought.

_Ding dong._

Then, Kyoko had an idea.

_Ding dong._

_Dingdongdingdongdingdongdingdongdingdongdingdongdingdongdingdongdingdongdingdongdingdongdingdong-_

"Get in!" Sayaka yelled, dragging the trigger-happy Kyoko into her arms and into her fine house.

* * *

"Kyoko, aren't you going to bathe?"

Looking up from one of her old novels, Kyoko replied, "It won't kill me if I don't take a bath once in a while."

Of all of Kyoko's many aeluroid qualities, her strange reluctance to shower was the one that got under Sayaka's skin the most. For whatever reason Kyoko had that Sayaka was unaware of, Kyoko simply didn't see the need at all to bathe more than once a day. She staunchly held her ground that, in her own words some time ago, _"It's a waste of water if I bathe before sleeping. Ain't that right? Who needs to bathe before they sleep when they do just that after they get up?"_

Afterwards, she made a grand display of sheer effrontery, _"Utter foolishness from Sayaka. Utter foolishness from Sayaka."_

"Just go take a bath already."  
"After you~"

Thankfully, the more Kyoko stayed over the night at Sayaka's, the more she warmed up to the avant-garde concept of 'nightly cleansing',

"Ah, alright, I'll get in first."

Kyoko gave her a grunt of acknowledgement before returning to her reading, and Sayaka moved to the bathroom.

After removing her school uniform in a very mundane order, which necessitates no amount of detailing whatsoever because such subtleties are best left to the splendours of human imagination, she folded her clothes neatly and placed them in the laundry basket. She removed her silver ring and placed it on the countertop.

Then turning around to face the full-body mirror, she brought a fair hand to her face.

"Ah!"

'What was it that Madoka's mom said?' she thought, 'You first have to believe you're beautiful, or something like that.'

'Does it really work that way?'

Sayaka was rather hesitant and she had her reservations about the whole thing.

'But I think I gained a few pounds lately…'

Her hands went down to her midriff and she rubbed it slowly. From the horrible facial expression she was making, one would think that she was tracing an old scab. But needless to say, what she searching for was even something even more dreadful, if only to a big-city teenager who had the time to worry about such trifling matters.

'Then again, I don't look much different.'

Twisting around in different angles to examine her body, she convinced herself that her recent episode of weight gain wasn't too much of a big deal.

Putting a hand at her hip, she tried posing in front of the mirror.

'I guess I don't look too bad.'

Suddenly struck with a most artistic inspiration, Sayaka struck a V-for-Victory sign with her free hand, and stuck her tongue out to the side while she winked. She was impressed.

"Fabulous, Sayaka-chan~" she told herself.

Riding the waves of her newfound confidence, she let herself go and her mind slid down the slippery slope of self-delusion.

Thoroughly enjoying looking at her fabulous-looking self in the fabulously-self-reflecting-mirror, she fabulously struck another awesome pose.

Placing her hands flat on her torso, arms covering her chest, she pretended for a short moment of time to be as pure as the driven snow and widened her eyes.

"Sayaka, kawaii~"

'Kira~ Kira~ You look absolutely stunning!' went the sparkly mirror, thoroughly charmed by Sayaka's gorgeous-looking self. Maybe.

"Hihi," she brought a dainty little hand to her mouth and snickered at how mischievously pretty she was. How fabulously gorgeous she was!

She deluded herself into coming up with those fallacious, egotistical, and downright untrue sentiments.

Then turning her body sideways, she lifted her left lower leg backwards and in the likeness of a flower, she framed her jawbone with one hand straightened on each side.

"Sayaka-chan is looking good today~ no," Sayaka corrected herself, "that's wrong, that's wrong. Sayaka-chan is always looking fabulous~"

And as she said that fabulous last word of hers, she cocked her head backwards and tossed her hair fabulously.

Then there came a voice from not too far away.

"Observe – the fucking narcissist in its natural habitat."

Sayaka turned her head.

She saw Kyoko standing by the doorway, looking as though she'd discovered a thousand rat carcasses in her bag. How exactly, you may ask, does it feel to discover a thousand rat carcasses in one's bag? Certainly that is a complicated question.

Firstly, finding a thousand rat carcasses in your bag, of all places, must make for a very surreal and unbelievable discovery. Similarly, Kyoko witnessed a very surreal scene: Sayaka indulging herself in what appeared to be the ultimate grotesquerie. She couldn't believe her eyes.

Secondly, finding a thousand rat carcasses in your bag must make for a very funny sight. Just imagine finding putrefying rats in your bag. Is it not very natural that you would feel a growing urge to laugh, out of sheer disbelief and wonderment? Is it not weirdly funny? Similarly, Kyoko felt a lot like laughing and chuckling to her heart's content when she saw Sayaka trying to act cute.

Lastly and most obviously, you'd feel like vomiting your guts out, now wouldn't you?

So, very masterfully, these three aspects of Kyoko's emotion harmoniously amalgamated to create Kyoko's queer facial expression: the look of one very unfortunate lady who had just discovered a thousand rat carcasses in her bag.

And needless to say, Sayaka was mortified.

"Don't look at me like that," Kyoko told a gawking and near-naked Sayaka.

"What'd you think I'd say? **Très bien**?"

"W-What are you doing here?!"

Sayaka hurriedly scrambled to cover her naked body. On a normal day, Sayaka wouldn't have minded it too much, but it was the thought of Kyoko having seen her disgrace herself that alarmed her so very much.

"I'm taking a bath, of course."

And though Kyoko's face was stern, Sayaka could hear the heavy undertone of mockery in her voice.

Then Kyoko removed her school uniform and tossed its crumpled form into the laundry basket

"What about you, Sayaka? Are you going to take a bath?"

So, somehow, they ended up in the bath together.

* * *

"Kyoko, I'm getting out first," Sayaka said after cleansing herself.

"You don't have to tell me."

"Don't spend too long in the bath."

"Yea, sure, sure."

Absolutely nothing interesting happened in the bath. Some things are just better left unsaid.

* * *

**Shower With Love**

* * *

"I'm plugging it in."  
"Ah! Kyoko! It's too strong."  
"My bad."

Night had ascended upon the land, and a considerable length of time had passed since the boring bathtime. Things were heating up fast in the living room; Kyoko and Sayaka were getting hot and sweaty. Emotions were running high and deep.

"Kyoko."  
"Yea?"

With Sayaka's parents out of the country, the house was unoccupied, save for Kyoko and Sayaka.

"Do it one more time."  
"One more time?"

Sweat drenched their bodies.

"Yes, please. That lick. Do it again."  
"Please huh?"

Being young, free, and energetic teenagers, having the whole house to themselves was surely an opportunity hard to come by. And being the wild teenagers they were, they took the chance to let it all hang out and do what they normally wouldn't.

"Yep, that's good. Biting."  
"You like it?"  
"Yea. Don't stop."

Sayaka's parents typically arrived home late at night. Their not being home did not seem like much to parade about, at first. After all, Sayaka had always had her evenings disturbance-free, if she were to discount Kyoko's presence as one.

"Oh! Oh, yeah! Mm!"

But since they could spend their midnights however they wanted, they resolved to do what was best done in the wee hours of night. They did what they hadn't done for a long time, and in the process, they also did some things they'd never done before.

"Oh, oh. Oh, oooh."

So caught up were they in their sensual deeds, that they did not even speak to one another. They didn't need to. Actions speak louder than words.

"Kyoko, you moan well."

And on that midnight, actions were everything.

"Ah, sorry Sayaka."  
"No, no. I liked that. Keep going. Don't stop."  
"Alright. Where was I… was it here?"

It was magical; the night was brimming with emotion.

"Higher."  
"Higher, it is."

They were symphonious, moving like flowing water.

"I think I'll stop for now. I'm tired."  
"Then that's that."

But all things must come to an end.

"What d'you wanna do now?" Kyoko said as she unplugged her electric guitar from the amplifier.  
"Watch a movie, I guess."

Sayaka lowered the fall-board of the piano and, in her seated position, stretched her body. Kyoko left the room to keep the equipment.

"Damn, we're all hot and sweaty now," Kyoko, ambling back, remarked.  
"We can take another bath later on."  
"Maybe we smell."

Then Kyoko walked up to Sayaka's back. Bending forwards, with her hands clasped behind her in full formality, she planted her face onto Sayaka's neck and gave a strong whiff.

Fancying herself a 'neck-sweat-scent' connoisseur, had there ever been one such ludicrous an occupation, Kyoko pompously declared, "Not too bad."

Feeling the chilling sensation on her neck, Sayaka –

* * *

"You know, Sayaka," Kyoko said.

Lying curled up on the couch, and head resting on Sayaka's lap, Kyoko looked up at Sayaka.

"Yeah?"

Illuminated by only the soft, flashing, higgledy-piggledy colours of the television and the milky white light of stars, they spent many hours watching rented movies, playing console games, and just wasting their time in general.

The living room was rather spacious. It was more than enough for the two of them to sprawl around in. The sofa they sat on was also long.

And in the midst of all that great empty space, Kyoko and Sayaka huddled up to one another as though –

"I like your house. It's a very nice house."

Sayaka stroked Kyoko's red hair.

"Of course you do. If you don't, I'll kick you out."

And, outside, it started to rain. Only outside.

"Mami told me her boobs were detachable."

They continued to fill the empty pockets of time with mundane words and fantastical picture-memories of good times long past.

"Really?"

They frittered the time away in each other's company.

"Yeah."

But all times must come to an end. They had run out of words to catch in the sea of thoughts; picture-memories hung too high on the apple tree's branch. Perhaps they had overfished.

"Do you have ice-cream?"

No matter. The torrents of the sea would flush out the past, and flush in the new.

"Go check yourself," Sayaka said before yawning.  
"Lazy," Kyoko said.

Kyoko was sure it was raining outside. She didn't yawn. She wasn't feeling sleepy, or so she told herself.

Well, what did it matter?

Lost for words, she was falling asleep.

"Isn't it a little bright?"

Those were the last words she mumbled before purpling down into the absolute darkness of unconsciousness.

"I'll close the curtains."

Droopy-eyed, Sayaka got up, careful not to stir the sleeping pig. Creaky-boned, she walked to the window door leading to the veranda.

"Ah. Here comes the sun."

Morning arrived.

The sound of a tambourine man's singing from the streets could be unclearly heard from the living room, and the sound of talking elevator music accompanied by the droning music of a newscaster's voice, playing continuously by the television, lullingly fell in broken triangles upon Kyoko's sleepy gears.

"Here comes the sun?"

Sayaka's lullaby-like voice took Kyoko away, disappearing through the smoke rings of her mind,

"Then, it's morning…"

Down the foggy ruins of time,

"Wah!"

Far past the frozen leaves, yellow and green,

"Crap!"

And the haunted, frightened trees, out to the windy beach,

"Kyoko!"

Far from the twisted reach of crazy sorrow.

"We have school!"

Yes, dancing beneath the diamond sky with one hand waving free,

"Wake up!"

Silhouetted by the sea, circled by the circus sands,

"My homework!"

With all memory and fate driven deep beneath the waves,

"Shit, what time is it now?!"

Kyoko slept, dreaming of the things she said today, forgetting about today until tomorrow.

In the jingle-jangle morning and the jingle-jangle of the tambourine man's tambourine, Sayaka struggled hard to shake Kyoko awake.

Beyond the windows, big and large; beyond that fine line of a boundary, wide and vast, a small shower of warm, cozy sunlight rained down on the earth, wetting the floor with a silent brush.

"'m not sreepy, Shayaka," Kyoko muttered in her sleep, "'m ready t'go anywhere w'th you."  
"Wake up already! Gah!"

Perhaps there had been some things Kyoko wanted to tell Sayaka.

No matter.

She could take her time to tell Sayaka. She could take her time. Maybe after they built that snowman – yes, maybe then.

"Argh!" Kyoko roared, "My nipples!"  
"Get up!"  
"You twisted my fucking nipples!"  
"Never mind! We have school in 10 minutes!"  
"Mooolester~ Kya!"

And, Kyoko – Kyoko – she knew: some things are better left unsaid.

* * *

**A/N: **This marks the end of the Handle With Care quartet.

And I must say, I shamelessly used song lyrics here. Now, I obviously don't own **Bob Dylan's "Mr. Tambourine Man"**. The next chapter will be Madoka-Homura centric.

P.S. The story is just beginning. Yes, 55k words, 7 chapters, and it's just beginning. I wouldn't be surprised if I stopped at over 300k words.

**NEXT CHAPTER:**

**Chapter VII  
I'm Only Sleeping  
**

"It feels good~" Madoka replied, letting that last word drag on lazily like a lion's quasi-yawning when it stretches its back and licks its balls.


	8. VA: Hitori

**Chapter VA  
**

* * *

There was a balmy breeze floating up in the high lofts of the heavens, and it was there where it spent a few fleeting moments cosily basking on a pillow of clouds. With autumn fast approaching its momentary death in the samsara of the seasons, the morning sun waned in its ferocity of shining and instead adopted a wintry outlook for the coming months. It cast its dancing spell upon all that was under its dominion, showering beams of gentler light like summer shadows, crowning the clouds with a glow of gold.

That balmy breeze was one of four that had no name, nor mother, as were all breezes – balmy or not. Had it a purpose? Maybe, or maybe not – that is for the breeze to share. However, as were of all things under the sun, it needed neither purpose nor direction to follow where its nature took it.

So through the cover of the sky it pierced, descending downwards. Winding, descending, like a rolling stone; it whirled its way past the steel and glass of tall structures, fluid like grape jelly on a hot summer's day. Under the summer shadows in autumn, it shot out gently down the empty roads, twisting and turning with the vivacity of a spring shower.

Finally, after its short journey from the heavens, it phased past a metal fence a few meters high, and touched down on soft greener grass. Brushing past the thighs and shoes of many a person, it was greeted by the sound of fresher morning voices.

"_Oi! Kyoko, kick it here!"_

A rolling football cut through the balmy breeze, taking with it some of autumn's fragile essence.

Trampled, kicked by the many heels above it – but it regrouped into itself from its several fragmented parts, and emerged whole with the wind that it was. Like a rolling stone, it roughly tumbled onto a warm concrete floor, but still it crawled onwards.

"_Argh!"_

Dream-like, those hollow ethereal noises people called 'sound' kissed the balmy breeze before fading from definition to obscurity. Waving goodbye until the very end to its new good-friend, the balmy breeze carried on with its wave-like course, full of bumpy ups and downs on the concrete floors and stepping feet.

And, in its final burst of life, it blew its last balmy breath past a large and tall zelkova tree, where two people sat basking in its kindly shade, and whistled its way towards God.

"Do you think it's a nice day today?" Madoka asked.

When the wind blew, the leaves shook and flew up high, exposing Madoka to a great degree of sunlight. Feeling the heat wash over her body, Madoka craned her head upwards and looked towards the brilliant blue.

As she expected, the sky was blue, the clouds were white, and the sun was up like mangoes and ripe persimmons.

On a soft patch of grass, she sat straight: back resting against the meagre trunk of a zelkova tree, legs straightened and outstretched. Her hands limply slept on her lap. Looking upwards, Madoka saw the shadowy canopy of leaves moving languidly with the stroking of the wind.

Through the spaces in between the layers of leaves, Madoka could see bright patches of cloudy skies. Constantly did the leaves flutter, causing the bright lights above her to dance in serenity and silence. It looked almost as though the leaves were glittering on a magic swirling ship, and it felt very much like being in a planetarium.

Although Madoka had never been to a planetarium before, she had a feeling that planetariums were much like the lights through the leaves, or the sparkling waves of the river. Was it irrational of her to think so? Maybe so. But it was just a feeling, and feeling was no cardinal sin.

She was entranced by the kaleidoscope of blinking lights and shady leaves. The more she looked upon it, the more her eyelids grew heavy, but never the wearier. Perhaps others might dismiss Madoka's lazy action as time-wasting. But Madoka certainly didn't see it that way. She was sitting in the shade during a lazy autumn day, looking as the leaves blew about in the wind, with not a care in the world – at peace.

The drifting, meandering voices of her classmates from the football field and the running tracks and the basketball courts and the school buildings and the beaches and the mountains and the – wherever they were, they reached Madoka's ears like runaway fragments of a midsummer's night's dream. She couldn't really make sense of them. Though she could hear the words they spoke and though their stories were quite clear, there was not a word that she could relate.

Their talk and song of tongues of lilting grace but gently caressed her ears.

Slowly, maybe lazily, Madoka tilted her head to the right and cast her sleepy gaze upon Kyoko and Sayaka in the far-out football field. What were they doing? Like two horses, they raced like crazy on the grass. Repeatedly, they threw back their heads, and slid, and swerved, and jumped with such abandon that Madoka thought their feet had left the ground. If only for that one moment, it was as though nothing stole their joy. Like a rolling stone, the football rolled on the sod and soared in the air – verily, a gatherer of no moss it was.

Madoka smiled, closed her eyes for a moment, and took a deep breath in. A rolling stone gathers no moss, or so the saying went. Then, would Madoka, carried forth on the winds of change, be like a rolling stone? Like a rolling stone that gathers no moss? Maybe it wasn't so bad to gather moss, so Madoka thought, though she herself could not make sense of it.

Body asleep, mind awake, Madoka simply waited for some sleepy feeling to take her away in the balmy autumn day, as a gatherer of moss.

"I do," Homura said, with a smile. Or so Madoka imagined.

Madoka had no way of telling what Homura's expression was. Still, it sounded like Homura was smiling. In a strange kind of fashion, Homura always wore her heart on her sleeve. Was it simply in her character? Maybe it was just that Homura saw no need to hide herself behind a wall, to veil herself in a farce. Perhaps that was why she was always alone, out of the crowd. She was just like a rolling stone that gathers no moss.

Homura sat on the opposite side of the tree trunk, for some reason. Was it Madoka who had chosen to sit with her back facing Homura's? Madoka couldn't really remember. It didn't matter that much anyways. All Madoka could see of Homura was a few wispy strands of jet-black hair. Like summer shadows, or the indistinct sounds Madoka could hear from faraway, they lingered in the corner of her vision, but never commanded her attention.

The shouts and noises of students during club practice; the calls of crows in the evening; the silence after the wind blows – they were all calming. Homura's hair would float into her corner of her sight for a few ethereal moments whenever the wind blew strongly.

"What about you?" Homura asked back like a summer shadow.

Madoka smiled in response. Surely Homura couldn't see Madoka smile, and surely Madoka knew that. But the happy feeling swelled so greatly from the bottom of her heart that she could not contain it inside. It was the kind of happy feeling that tasted as sweet as water.

"It feels good~" Madoka replied, letting that last word drag on lazily like a lion's quasi-yawning when it stretches its back and licks its balls.

Speaking to Homura like that made it seem like Homura's voice was ubiquitous, coming from here, there, and everywhere. In a way, Madoka felt as though they were sitting together in the early morning like two old men drinking tea and eating toast at a coffeehouse as dawn ascended on a stairway of crimson-golden light. In a way, Madoka felt as though she was talking to God. Or did it feel like was talking to herself? Silly Madoka found it hard to tell the difference between God and herself.

Madoka wondered: who was Madoka? Was she her Papa's and her Mama's daughter? Was she Tatsuya's favourite big sister? Was she a student of Mitakihara Middle School?

No matter, no matter. God, Madoka, or Homura – whoever it was, Madoka was happy to sit on her patch of grass and watch the world go by, silent as the autumn river's flood.

A meticulously toned cacophony of bird-songs then pierced the atmosphere. Again, another flock of birds zoomed past. Madoka watched them fly away. The peach petals, of the few peach trees on school grounds, had all but been blown away. In their place, the peach tree's leaves.

How many times had she seen such a sight? Madoka didn't keep count, but she knew she had done this ever since she had become the class's health officer.

* * *

After transferring back into Mitakihara, Madoka was automatically granted that vacant role. And as the class's health officer, she was responsible over the welfare of a certain 'Akemi Homura' during weekly P.E. lessons and had to keep her company. Apparently, 'Akemi Homura' had a debilitating heart condition that prevented her from being able to partake in physically-strenuous activities. As a result, while her classmates heartily enjoyed (or suffered at the hands of) their sports and exercise, 'Akemi Homura' could only watch from afar and observe the goings-on.

The first time Madoka had to look after Akemi Homura during P.E., it was a hot summer day where the sun scorched down in clear blue skies, and it had been barely a month since their awkward first meeting. She found Akemi sitting right underneath a zelkova tree – the very same one the two were sitting underneath at present – and looking upwards. Madoka, after much hesitation, asked her what she was doing.

And Akemi Homura told her with a joking smile, _"I'm looking at the stars."_

That was the first time Akemi Homura joked with Madoka. It was the first joke they shared though at the time, Madoka confused it for a serious declaration, if not merely a poetic sentence.

In the blowing wind that raised the goose bumps on Madoka's skin, shy Madoka quizzically asked her, _"The stars?"_

"_Yes__,"_ she told her, before returning to looking upwards.

Curious, though somewhat intimidated as well, Madoka walked over to the opposite side of the tree trunk and sat herself down. In the beginning, owing to the tension in her heart that arose from being with Akemi Homura, she sat in a position that was rather uncomfortable – tightly hugging her knees to her chest. But when she looked upwards, and saw what Akemi Homura saw, she was ensnared in the lulls of drowsiness. her arms went lax and her mind took her into some distant past.

"_Are you still awake, Akemi-san?" _Madoka called out after some time had passed; her voice, placid and devoid of nervousness.  
_"Call me Homura,"_ came the reply.  
_"Ah, gomen ne, Ake – Homura-chan."_

It was some time before the reply came again.

"… _It's okay."_

* * *

And that was the first casual conversation they had. Perhaps that was the beginning of their friendship. Madoka recalled it with fondness. And she was reminded that it was her who had chosen to sit on the opposite side of the tree trunlk.

For some reason, even after months of such a routine, neither of them thought to sidle up closer to the other, and they remained sitting opposite to each other every P.E. lesson.

How many times had it been? Twelve? 13? Fourteen? Maybe many more times. Madoka had long since lost count of how many times they shared these good morning pseudo-siestas under the summer shadows and the smiling zelkova tree. And after all that time together, they still sat with their backs to one another. Madoka giggled openly at that thought. Surely, they were strange girls: strange girls in a strange land.

It was a very personal, a very private time that was shared between the two. No one ever came to interrupt the two sitting under the smiling zelkova tree. After all, the smiling zelkova tree was planted at a site far removed from any bustling points of activity. One could even call it a foothill where the tree stood. It overlooked the river that flowed beside the school, and it seemed to merge with the trees that lined the perimeter of the school fences. Thus, despite being a part of the school, it certainly had no trace of the school where it was. No mark of accomplished architecture, no glass panels nor glass walls, no teachers, no students, no persons – just a quiet little tree, lost in a haze of trees in the back ground. Just two girls, one no more and no less strange than the other, sitting under the shade of a smiling zelkova tree, whose leaves, many browned, blow away with the whispering of the wind. And those myriad unstrung gems are scattered everywhere around.

"What are you reading now, Homura-chan?" one strange girl asked the other.

Homura's hair of floating sky glimmered in the sun. Some strands of her hair floated up on wings of wind and landed on Madoka's shoulders, before slipping and sliding down onto the grass and some lone windflowers.

"I'm not reading today."  
"Then what are you doing?"

Perhaps Madoka had heard the flipping of pages deeply embedded in the sound of rustling leaves. Maybe not, but she wouldn't have been able to accurately tell what Homura was doing.

"Just thinking."

Madoka's left hand left to fiddle with a stalk of grass. With her right hand still resting on her lap, Madoka turned her gaze from the stars above her to the bright schoolyard scenery. She could see those two horses, Kyoko and Sayaka, running about the grass turf with great gusto. Were they sleek in their actions or were they brutal? Madoka couldn't really tell. She was so far away. Small details like that seemed so inconsequential. Just their vague figures and bright hair colour could be easily distinguished.

"Thinking about?"

And not long after Madoka had asked that, Homura windily sighed and drooped her eyelids kindly. Madoka could hear Homura put her hand – right hand – on the grass. Was Homura leaning on her shoulder? Maybe she was.

"Old times."

All Madoka had to do was turn her head around. Then she could see. She could see if Homura was leaning on her shoulder or lying on the grass. She could see what Homura was seeing, and hopefully see the same things.

"Old times?"

All she had to do was reach her hand out. And hopefully Homura would reach hers out too. The tree trunk wasn't all too thick. If they only reached their hands out, they would probably be able to reach each other.

"Good times."

But Homura probably wouldn't do that. And if they did face each other, and look at each other in the face, they would probably not know what to do or say.

And their conversations often went no further than they ought to. That was for the better, wasn't it? Madoka, in her keen interest for the girl, would sometimes try to get Homura to share some things about her past. Trying to build a bridge of correspondence, Madoka would sometimes share some things about herself as well. On some days, only under the smiling zelkova tree, Madoka would launch into mundane everyday topics – the ones that defined her little habits and idiosyncrasies. Just last week, Madoka went on and on about her failures and successes in cooking. Unlike her father, she did not have a flair for cooking. And lately, Homura had also been opening up to Madoka in her own little ways, little as they may be. Where Homura once used to nod and grunt or not deign to acknowledge at all, she now offered one or two short lines of dialogue or advice. She would even show her interest and engagement by saying, 'Really?', 'And then?', and 'I see.'

It didn't make for a very normal or a very smooth conversation, since it was almost always very one-sided if a conversation was at all initiated and ventured into, but Madoka simply wanted to connect with the strange girl who stayed on her mind for longer than was normal. The first few times this happened, Madoka felt rather surprised at her own ability to make conversation and the fluidity at which the words came out – not from her tongue, but from her heart where her feelings resonated with her words. Madoka was never one for talking, not as a child and not as a teenager. Her diffidence and her sense of inferiority led her to shy away from talking too much to distant acquaintances and strangers. So, when the words came out one after another, and the dialogue flowed like a calm river, it seemed so foreign to her like she was a possessed with a fervent desire to express some stowed-away part of herself.

On some days, Madoka talked like there was no tomorrow, while Homura sometimes read books, did her homework, or painted on canvas. Madoka knew that because Homura usually arrived before Madoka did. Perhaps it didn't really matter to her whether Homura was listening to her or not. Perhaps she just wanted to talk. Perhaps she just wanted to find some excuse to try and get to know Homura a little better. If that were the case, then Madoka was definitely making progress. With each trifling piece of small talk they shared, Madoka felt as though she was really beginning to break the ice and getting to know more about Akemi Homura. Or maybe not. Maybe she was just going round in circles, trying to chase a summer shadow. After all, Akemi Homura was a very intriguing person. The essence of her personality, harder to see through than a misty fog or Mami's overly-lush and romanticised poems.

On other days, when they were both feeling a little lazy and sleepy, they'd just sit down and watch the lights dazzle downwards. And in the silence they shared, Madoka would feel a soul-stirring warmness she had never felt before: a magic in the air that would send shivers down her spine and cause her to her eyes to go moist. Then, warmly suspiring, they would spend their time in the serenity of a good morning's coming, watching the world go by.

This, was one such a day: when Madoka peacefully looked up at the sky underneath the smiling zelkova tree, and did nothing together with Homura.

"Why do you think Kyoko and Sayaka are playing football with the boys?"

Being with Homura was something Madoka always looked forward too. Their unplanned, unspoken meetings under the tree always got under her skin every time she thought about it. Something about it – yes, it felt like she was reliving a part of her childhood she had never experienced.

"Because they act like boys?"

Sometimes, Madoka wondered Homura spent her time during P.E. lessons before she transferred in. Did she spend it all alone? It sounded very Homura-ish, no doubt. Sitting on soft grass, leaning on a tree, looking at the sky, counting the clouds – they all seemed like things that Homura would naturally do.

Or maybe Madoka was just confusing Homura for herself.

Drinking tea on a Tuesday morning, seated underneath a smiling zelkova tree, buffeted by the balmy breezes, observing all that moved and flowed – Madoka could vividly imagine Homura doing all that. Or maybe sitting on a rocking chair with a cat sleeping on her lap – wearing a kimono, with a book in hand.

"Especially Kyoko, isn't she?" Madoka smilingly said after chuckling.

"She is," Homura smiled back.

They said nothing more beyond that, and silence followed thereafter. They sought no further conversation. Unusually for Madoka, she did not find the lack of interaction to be awkward or strained. Perhaps that was because it felt so very peaceful. It felt almost as though she were alone, at rest and at peace. To Madoka, it seemed more like she was in the company of herself than someone else, if that were somehow possible.

"Homura-chan," she called out.  
"Yes?"

Once more, Madoka looked off into the distance. She heard the laughter and the noise, as the wind blew against her hair and her tresses waved in the air. Slowly, or quickly, Madoka lost track of time. She had no need for it either ways.

"It's nothing. I just wanted call out your name."

Madoka chuckled a little after telling that to Homura. How silly, she thought, it was for her to have done that.

"…Call it as many times as you like," Homura murmured out.

Was Homura blushing as she said that? Her hair slightly aflutter, her radiant face illuminated by the orange glow of a sun about to leave its sunrise – Madoka could imagine that. Madoka could imagine Homura looking down at her hands in bashfulness, a red blush slowly spreading from ear to ear like the sun crawling out from underneath the earth to lighten the world's burdens.

Was Madoka blushing as she said that? Her tied-up hair was slightly aflutter in the warm wind, and her half-lidded eyes were sparkling like gems of ruby as she watched the smiles on everyone's faces – Madoka was just like that. Madoka watched the people moving about in the sun-painted world. And when the light rained down on them all, Madoka could see the smiles on their cheery faces.

But was Madoka blushing as she said that? Madoka didn't know. She couldn't tell. She could feel a joyous feeling surge forth from the bottom of her heart; her chest lightened of its oft heavy load upon seeing the smiles on everyone's faces. The warmth that over flowed from the tips of her ears to the tips of her toes.

With every piece of dialogue they exchanged, Madoka felt as though she wanted, and had been kept long in wanting, to speak to her and tell her – something. What was it? It was as though something within her was aching to escape through the glass ceiling of her heart from the confinement of undiluted, uncommunicated thought and ideals.

No matter, no matter.

Madoka's eyes strayed away from the stalks of grass she was twirling, and watched as the folds in her skirt tentatively flapped about with the wind. Then, a fruity burst of shouting came from the soccer fields. Madoka turned her head to the left – not too slowly, not too quickly. Just right, just about right. Everything was just about right.

She saw Sayaka rolling around on the grass, huddled up into her body like a pill-bug when prodded. Sayaka seemed to be saying something. Probably something seething with teen spirit and bubbly outrageous, as Sayaka usually did. Beside her, Kyoko was standing, arms folded.

Would Kyoko help Sayaka up? Madoka thought of the odds.

Sayaka was saying something to Kyoko, or it seemed. Sayaka's lips were moving. Still, she rolled on the grass field like it was her own house's tatami mat. She looked like she was having fun. Though the breeze was not strong enough to have carried Sayaka's voice over to the smiling zelkova tree, Madoka could tell she was having fun.

After that, Kyoko spoke as well, but she soon moved such that her back was facing Madoka. With Kyoko's face and expressions obscured from Madoka's visions, Madoka could only imagine how she was feeling. Well, she still had several clues to follow by. She was assiduous in pointing out every one of Kyoko's little movements, those that she could see.

Kyoko's lips were probably moving. Then again, maybe Kyoko was just condescendingly staring down at Sayaka's curled-up profile, as if to say Sayaka's concerns were veritably no bigger than a mote of dust on the Buddha's finger, no more significant than the caterwauling of stray cats enraptured in a night of passion, and not at all worthy of Kyoko's deigning.

Madoka imagined what had gone on between them.

* * *

**ACT I SCENE I**

**Sayaka (anguish, on floor) STAGE LEFT**

_Kyoko! Why did you have to step on that snail?_

**Kyoko (annoyance, shame) STAGE RIGHT  
**

_I said I'm sorry, already!  
_**WALKS BRISKLY TO STAGE LEFT**

**Sayaka (grief)  
**

_Sorry cures nothing!  
Look,__ it's dead!_

**Kyoko (shame)  
**

_Sayaka! Stop crying over spilt milk, god damn it! _ **5**_  
_

**Sayaka (intermittent sobbing)  
**

_Imagine… it could have had a wife, some kids.  
It had a life! _ _  
_

**Kyoko (exasperation)**

_A fucking snail!  
All this for a fucking snail?!_

**Sayaka (in an outburst)  
**

_You killed it!_ **10**  
_Because you were chasing a ball,  
To kick it, and to put it into the net,  
And all for that stupid game, you took a life!_

**Kyoko (intimidated)  
**

_Eh – uh, he's not dead._

**Choir**

_He is not?_

**Kyoko (to Sayaka)  
**

_His shell's just broken… _ **15**  
_Yeah, that's it!  
He can just find another shell!  
_

**Sayaka**

_Another shell? ***sob*  
**Look at it, Kyoko!  
It's lookin' like a man who fell off a skyscraper: _ **20**  
_A bag of splattered miso soup!  
Its home, wrecked worse  
than any ever were in the __Tōhoku earthquake!_

**Kyoko**

_I – I can make it better, Sayaka!_

**Choir**

_Can she? _ **25**_  
_

**Kyoko (to choir)  
**

_Verily, I can!_

**Sayaka**

_Have you gone blind from reading all those damnable books, Kyoko?!  
Prithee, look! _**(focus on snail)**_  
Once perky, dainty, unassuming a snail  
Has now been reduced to a lump of snot! _ **30**_  
_

**Kyoko**

_Believe in me, don't you?_

**Choir**

_Believe in her!  
_

**Sayaka (to choir)**

_Nay! _**(focus on snail)  
**_Tis gone, deceased, demised, perished,  
Swimming in the lakes of Hades, ten feet under, _ **35**  
_Irrevivable and irresurrectable but by the grace of God!_ **(turn to Kyoko)  
**_Your actions, irremediable!  
It has gone to meet the mystical choir!_

**Kyoko (sarcastically remorseful)  
**

_Alack, there lies more peril in thine eye than twenty of my balls!  
Forgive me, Sayaka! I am truly sorry! _ **40**  
_Is there anything I can do to make it up to you?_

**Sayaka (gullibly falls for it)  
**

_Well… you can give me a kiss?  
_

**Kyoko**

_Oh Sayaka~ **(gentle caress)**  
_

**Sayaka**

_Oh Kyoko~ **(deep embrace)**  
_

* * *

Just about right, with a dash of Shakespearian to boot. A maiden's mind was truly a thing of power. It was probably due to Hitomi's influence; with her shouting the phrases 'forbidden love' and 'girls can't love girls' like they were campaign slogans, the imagery of Hitomi's saucy implications seeped into her thoughts very naturally.

But Madoka thought that Hitomi wasn't wide of the mark. The red and blue duo did have some special sort of connection which Madoka could hardly fathom. Sayaka was never the most unsuspecting of people, if her initial wariness of Homura was anything to count by.

And in comparison to Homura, Kyoko introduced herself as a far shadier individual. Yet, almost in the blink of an eye, the two strangers got to living under the same roof, sleeping on the same bed, and breathing in the same air. Their lives and their characters were now so closely interwoven, Madoka could hardly recall who Sayaka was before Kyoko came into her life.

The letters Sayaka had written to Madoka, while she was still in America, detailed her mundane adventures in school and her encounters with the tomboy who went by the name of Sakura Kyoko. They met each other at a convenience store, where Sayaka helped Kyoko pay for a meat bun when Kyoko had forgotten her purse. Perhaps, Madoka thought, that was what was called 'a blessing in disguise'. If Kyoko hadn't left her money at home, she probably wouldn't have gotten to know Sayaka. Then, her life would probably have been much different.

Peering out with the calmness of a drawn bow, she observed Kyoko and Sayaka. Kyoko bent down and stretched her hand out to Sayaka.

"You know, Homura-chan…"  
"Yes?"  
"Isn't autumn beautiful?"

* * *

**Hitori**

* * *

Sayaka grabbed it, and got up onto her feet unsteadily. Madoka could see her staggering and leaning her weight onto her left leg. From she was, she couldn't make out Sayaka's expression, but she just imagined her to be growling at Kyoko. Kyoko was probably half-grinning, making a small mockery of Sayaka.

"Leaves change colour…"

Madoka looked towards the school gardens. The autumn leaves, arranged in two or three scarlet terraces among the pine trees grown in the gardens, had fallen like ancient dreams. But there were still stubborn little sun-coloured flowers blooming proudly in the treetops. And morning after morning, the flowers keep on falling.

"Flowers bloom…"

Far out in the distance, flocks of birds sang their meticulously toned cacophony and flew off westwards, chasing the high sun. What were they chirping about? Madoka always wanted to know if they had their own bird matters to discuss. Maybe they were gossiping like housewives? Madoka just imagined that they did anyways.

"Birds sing…"

There were so many things Madoka wanted to share with Homura.

"And eating sweet potatoes..."

Having a barbeque, and roasting sweet potatoes with everyone - thinking that made Madoka a little hungry.

"Isn't it wonderful how things change?"

While waiting for a response, Madoka twirled the stalk of a small windflower between her fingers, and smiled. Her sleepy eyes, on the dancing white petals of the flower she twirled.

"It really is," Homura replied.

Her voice trailed off towards the end, ending as a hushed sigh, like the sound of the wind. Was Homura smiling as she said that? Was she wistfully looking out into the distance, reflecting on the changing times? Madoka didn't know. Madoka couldn't tell. But even then, Madoka simply imagined Homura smiling away and looking far out.

"Sunrise doesn't last all morning…"

Madoka closed her eyes, listening to the sound of the wind. The earth has music for those who listen.

What was Homura looking at? Maybe that shining castle in the sky. Madoka could only imagine herself to it.

"Nothing lasts forever…"

So she tried imagining a shining castle in the sky.

They really were quite silly. If Madoka so wished to, she could have just turned her head to see the same things Homura saw. But she didn't. She wanted to imagine. She wanted to imagine for herself what Homura's world was like.

"In the blink of an eye, we bid goodbye…"

A shining castle in the sky atop a flowering peak: so fresh, so bright, the daylight blazing, all adazzle.

"Happy times with you seldom last…"

Sunlight in the emptiness, beyond the corners and inside the walls – images of broken light which danced before her like a million suns.

"All things must pass…"

And white clouds, or white cranes, flying, somewhere round that shining castle in the sky.

"All things must pass away."

In the morning, the golden morning, listening to the sound of the wind, Madoka lay soundly in her sleep, eyes firmly shut. From afar, someone was shouting for the class's health officer. Apparently, someone needed tending to.

No matter. No matter.

"That is the law of cycles, isn't it, Madoka?"

She rested her upper body on the tree with her head supported by her right shoulder, with a stalk of windflower slackly projecting from her left-hand fingers. And that was all she was doing: sleeping in a quiet place with the refracted light of the warm fine day soaking into her skin, watching the autumn pass sequestered, for sure, but pure, and quiet as the autumn river, flowing, as she listened to the words flow out like endless rain into a paper cup.

And Madoka - she imagined Homura, smiling until the end.

"Like a rolling stone, it gathers no moss."

* * *

**NEXT CHAPTER**

**Chapter VB  
******Héroïque **Hitomi**

In spring - the dawn, the dawn when the first petals of cherry blossom turn a deeper hue of pink and the glassworks of the tall buildings gleam with lights, like the sea on a sunny day, sparkling, blinking in and out - it is that which is beautiful.


	9. VB: Héroïque Hitomi (Part 1)

Yes.

* * *

**Chapter VB – Part 1**

* * *

In spring - the dawn, the dawn when the first petals of cherry blossom turn a deeper hue of pink and the glassworks of the tall buildings gleam with lights, like the sea on a sunny day, sparkling, blinking in and out - it is that which is beautiful.

Certainly, Hitomi could remember that one day – when she lay on the tatami mat in the evening, her father snoring restfully beside, the bright orange evening, yes, how she felt! Calm. A wave of languor drifted past her mind as the warm, balmy wind wafted by, and she felt! Sleepy. Serenity was that which was beautiful.

In summer - the nights, though unbearably hot and humid, still - when the moon shines, and when it doesn't, and when it rains, and when it doesn't - yes, when occasionally the fireflies flit to and fro, the nights are more beautiful than ever they were, and the long-gone scent of peppermints and violets seem to seep in through the windows - it is then when it is too beautiful to sleep.

Perhaps, Hitomi could remember that day – when she first discovered her feelings for Kyousuke, that sissy-violin-boy. She did not yet know what it was like to be romantically attracted to another, to desire the company of another. And in the beginning, she never really thought much of him. But one day, she heard. Yes. She could remember – hearing, not on the internet, nor on the radio. Not on the streets, nor in the concert halls that she was occasionally obliged to visit. She heard it in her memories. One day, she woke up hearing it in her memories. She heard the piano – a certain Chopin etude, the Aeolian Harp – opus 25, no. 1. It was then that she realised she was in love with that sissy-violin-boy. She wasn't sure of what that entailed of, but she was convinced of her conclusion – and it was that fiery resolution that was too beautiful for her to sleep.

In autumn - the evenings, the evenings when the glittering sun sinks close to the edge of spires and hills, and the pigeons fly to their nest in twos, threes, fours - specks in the distant sky. Those too are beautiful. Yes.

When the sun set, Hitomi's heart was moved by the sound of the wind, the wind that pierced through the cover of the sky, descending downwards, blanketing all that lay beneath, and, yes, the sound of the hum of the insects that filled her hazy vision as she made her way back home only seemed to make the world at dusk all the more fuzzy, indistinct. She sometimes felt like she was floating amidst the vague atmosphere, waiting in anticipation for something she never knew about.

Yes. The way the days loll by, certainly Hitomi thought it was beautiful.

Didn't she remember?

And when she was younger, so much younger, on her field trips, she would sometimes sight a distant shooting star beyond the windows she blankly gazed through when bored of conversation - yes, like any other child, she would try to make fervent wishes upon it. Repeat your wish thrice while it's still in the sky, and your wish is all but granted - so she believed, in miracles, magic. But she could never do it.

It always went by too quickly. She could never react fast enough to even conjure a wish in her mind. But she never gave up. Ever ready to avenge herself against the bitter humiliation, she would patiently await the opportunity to spot a stray shooting star – and hope that, surely, one day, she would get to wish upon it. It was that that she found beautiful – the wishing.

Perhaps, she was lucky. In her life, she saw many such shooting stars. She watched them pass her by, as she waited for the day she could finally take action.

But today, a warm blood-red sunset stretched as far as the eye could see. Certainly, the day was a quiet, autumn day. As the sunset crept over the hills, their contours dyed a deep orange and wisps of deep purple clouds hang lonesome in the sky, the glassworks of the complex darkened from every corner, heralding the cool darkness of night every

* * *

_Bong. Bong. Bong._

* * *

where. From the proud belltower reaching high towards the heavens, as the clock struck eight, three chimes of the old bronze bell resounded throughout the now-purpled meadows and the closed-off city walls. The dew that gathered on the blades of leaves gradually trickled down into the soil. A gentle breeze wafted by in the busy streets, bringing to its people a scent of the violets and peppermints which grew in the city's parks in so

* * *

_Indeed, the day was the same as ever, albeit not for any undesirable reasons._

* * *

me long-forgotten time. Such was what Hitomi thought, as she made her way back home.

But then – yes, she happened to look up – she found a shooting star. It was slower than usual, yes, much slower, but like always, all she could do was marvel at its beauty, the words caught in her throat. Didn't she know? Of course, she knew: that stars shimmered brighter if they were falling. Then it struck her. Maybe, she never did want to wish upon a star. Maybe not.

Far out in the distance, flocks of birds sang their meticulously toned cacophony and flew off westwards, chasing the high sun. But Hitomi – she did not hear them.

No, yes. How could she? Of the hundreds of people passing by on that busy zebra crossing, she was the only one who bothered to crane her head upwards and direct her gaze high above towards the firmament. It seemed to her like the sky was holding up the star. It seemed to remain fixed in place, shining brighter and brighter as it rocketed.

What was it then? A feverish excitement that she felt? Yes. And she watched the star star twinkle brightly, or darkly. As Kyousuke said, but as she sees star she sees star, and she still stands standing still yes, yes, it was – falling, just enough time to make a wish, she wished, but what wish would she wish yes, she did not know, but it was – falling up, or was it – not now – no, yes, down and where? Whence? To the edges of the world, no stars ever fall in Mitakihara. It would be disastrous if they did. They were meant to wander ad infinitum, neverstopping, beyond the telescopic variables that could be comprehended, straying, astronomical vagrants, flitting to and fro imperceptibly from time to splace. But did they? She did not no what wish to make. And what was it to no? And what was it to yes? Yes. Maybe it would be bet

* * *

ter if she picked up extra eggs on sale at the supermarket and take a nice walk before people bumped into her yet she, did not stop looking, up down it went – slow,ly maj-estica,lIy, yes, yes, she knew what wish to make – or maybe no – but she was always like that, she was alyways, yes – like that! That! That! That thing!

* * *

_There was a balmy breeze floating up in the high lofts of the heavens, and it was there where it spent a few fleeting moments cosily_

* * *

Notastar – notshooting, notastar – yes, no, people. Turned! Away. Theycouldn'tseewhatHitomisaw. Too fast, spinning, silver.

* * *

_showering beams of gentler light like summer shadows, crowning the clouds with a glow of_

* * *

Thenthesunshonesunshone – bright!Bright! No matter. But suddenly; no matter. Why? What – suddenly –

* * *

_Ambulances and fire engines too were caught in the terrible traffic. There were so many of them. Revving car engines, blaring horns, panicked shouts, ringing bicycle bells – the caterwauling pressed on the people from all_

* * *

Yes, yes, but no – to her it was less than suddenly, she was used to fasterfasteritfellfaster – accelerondo, precipitato.

* * *

_thought she remembered these vivid details. Then, as if all the images of silhouettes idyllically gliding through the air were naught but a mirage, she awoke. She thought she could not remember more of that surreal dream._

* * *

Didn't she remember? No she didn't how could she this was the firstfirsttime, notspring,notsummer,notautumn,notwinter, from it Fell! Fell from a silver mountain! because some things only happen once, then there was no feeling no no, she did not know, knot yet, but no feeling of any kind… ha, yes, why, so slowly, stars didn't fall so roma…

* * *

_Misshapen light clouds rested in the sky, stock-still. Cradled by the wind, the trees would rustle and the grass would bend back ever so slightly. Far out in the distance, flocks of birds sang their meticu_

* * *

So it reasoned…that autumn evening…fixing she with her eye…yes!

* * *

_lously toned cacophony and flew off westwards, chasing the high sun. Sunlight fell upon the water surf_

* * *

_**Bong. Bong. Bong.**_

* * *

_ace of the river, causing it to glitter with the slow streaming of_

* * *

Fixing it with her eyes… her tries lest it elude her or she delude herself… no, no, she didn't no, without any on her part, her part… so on and so forth, but what did it mean? What did it Hitomi did not yes. And all too no no no, but to be or not to be, that is the question – but Hitomi did not no.

In winter the early mornings are beautiful when the snow has fallen atop the plants and frosted the world a deep white punctuated only by the earthy brown and amber of wood houses and pinnacles of statues and electricity poles and all dead still sweet silent as the grave and then she sudd – reali –

Then she heard a loud sound, followed by an deafe**_bababadalgharaghtakamminarronnkonnbronntonnerronntuonnthunntrovarrhounawnskawntoohoohoordenenthurnuk_**

* * *

_water._

* * *

ning silence.

Did she find it beautiful as well?

Yes.

Yes.

She did.

Yes. Why should death be any less beautiful than life?

In spring - the dawn, the dawn when the first petals of cherry blossom turn a deeper hue of pink and the glassworks of the tall buildings gleam with lights, like the sea on a sunny day, sparkling, blinking in and out - it is that which is beautiful.

* * *

_**"Why do you delay," says he, "Why are you idle? Unless you seize the day, it flees."  
However, even though you seize it, it still will flee.  
**__Seneca the Younger  
_

* * *

**NEXT CHAPTER  
****Chapter VB  
**

**Héroïque Hitomi**  
"Do you treasure this world?"

* * *

**A/N: **I'm back. However, I'm still quite busy, so I have to split up this long chapter into parts as I edit the rest. The next part should come soon. It is happy, and light-hearted. I promise. Eventually, I'll merge everything into one chapter, so until then, this part may stick out like a sore thumb in this fic for a while longer.


	10. VB: Héroïque Hitomi (Part 2)

**Chapter VB ****– PART 2  
**

* * *

In Mitakihara, it is most splendid to observe the breaking light of day, visible no matter where one is, assuming the skies are clear. Rising from beneath the cover of small foothills that dotted the periphery of the city, even the slightest hint of radiance peeking out would result in half the city being slowly illuminated by a regular golden warmth, as the constellations yonder gradually, gently, faded away. Certainly, the scenery at night too is resplendent, what with countless dots upon dots of streetlights and the city's numerous light fixtures that stud the hills and well-cultivated parks, all of which made for a rather ethereal sight if one were to gaze down at the city from high atop a building or a hilltop. As a child, Hitomi felt it beautiful. The way the city lights looked through a clear glass window, she might have thought the city were looking back at her.

Blinking, blinking – as the lights would sometimes blink, she would sometimes blink back. Be it in hospital visits, or at home, or on the plane, or when crossing the bridge from her neighbourhood to the nearest shrine to ring in the new year, Hitomi had a penchant for scouring the night time landscapes for a glimpse of the city lights. Perhaps when it rained heavily, and she was caught amidst the heavy weather, forced to take shelter underneath an empty bus-stop, she took comfort in how the distant, muffled lights seemed like metaphorical "lights at the end of the tunnel". Maybe it was in those moments of sudden, subtle weakness that she held such architectural feats higher in regard than that of natural lighting. After all, where the radiance of the sun and the moon were particularly suspect to the whims of nature, man-made lights were impervious to all such trifling fluctuations of weather. In a way, she supposed, the city-lights were more constant. They were there to illuminate dark alleyways and comfort citizens in the darkest of nights, staving off sneaky suspicions of horror lurking in the shadows – those atavisms of biology.

But definitely, in her mind, it was best when the two lights superimposed upon one another, when she could see the city being bathed in moonlight, as it showered itself with various scintillating lights. It was in those times that she felt it all to be phantasmagorical, something straight out of a magic lantern – a nightly kaleidoscope. When she was younger, so much younger than today, maybe she opened the window to let the light into her room, rather high and with a good vantage point over the city landscape. In too would come along a gentle, moist breeze brimming with the scent of yellow chrysanthemum and white roses, mixed together with a faint whiff of camphor from yesterday's downpour. And perhaps, in those moments, she dreamed that she would, without a moment's due, spread her wings and fly – trying to catch the wandering stars that grazed by. Gazing at the vague yet lucid sight every so often, she would sometimes find herself staring unknowingly at her faint reflection on the window.

She would wonder if her reflection was really just a part of the night sky, or if not – as surreal as the city, sleeping with nightlights. Intrigued by the window's reflective properties, she reached a tentative finger out, only to be mildly surprised at how her reflection followed in time, like a doppelgänger mirroring her every movement, while a faint but deep rumbling of the earth could be heard for a short instance. She could not fathom it; she could not put her finger on it, and she did not put her finger on it. But as insofar as common sense dictated, she had simply to conclude that that young girl in the window – or maybe beyond it – was herself. Decked in, possibly, a plain nightgown, blue as the moonlight filling in the four walls of her room, and adorned with a strange expression of wonderment and idleness, with straight and flowing green hair, she had no choice but to conclude that that was herself.

Then, a thought came to her in the gentleness of night: who was she? And was that – that strange thing – what she looked like? It was in those sorts of times when she favoured the moonlight in favour of the blinking, lively, city lights. As she lifted her hand closer to her face, inspecting, questioning her Hitomi-ness, all she saw were faint curved lines on palms, twisting around one another to form thicker strokes like the vines that reached high into some castle in the sky in the fairy tale, Jack and the Beanstalk. Some of them converged to form a figure seeming like an English "M", or 川 – a river on each hand. Then, she saw. She saw the moonlight covering those rivers with a soft sheen of calming blue. And down to her fingers, to her toes, to her study desk, to her cabinets and drawers – it illuminated all in the room, and her figure cast vague shadows that were also tinged in a blueish-white hue.

And wide-eyed with a sudden wonderment, she jerked her head out the open window and observed the whole city below – blue, speckled with white. It was that which was beautiful – the gentle blue and blinking white on a cold night. Perhaps it was then when it came to her: I am who I am, that apparently redundant, teleological answer. Did it make any sense to her? Maybe it did, or maybe it didn't. She couldn't quite tell the difference. Was it stranger for her to be herself, or to be not-herself – whoever herself was? But Hitomi couldn't quite tell the difference. So, maybe, there wasn't a need for such a misplaced awareness of herself, and whatever made her who she was. And so, that night, she lay on her bed, imagining to herself how nice it would be to have blue, crystal-clear, moonlight forever, streaming in through the windows, rustling the leaves of apple trees in the orchards not too far away, billowing past the waves of the saltwater oceans, and round through the foothills and the headlands – a picturesque moment frozen in time. Wouldn't it be nice?

Regardless, she lulled herself to sleep that night, humming a little tune as she gazed out the window, beyond her reflection and all the lights, to the scorpion with eyes of red, the eagle's wings outspread, the little dog with eyes of blue, the curls of the snake of light, where high above, Orion sang, felling the brushwood and the dewdrops. The clouds of Andromeda were shaped like a fish's mouth. And extending the length of the Great Bear's paw five times north, above the Little Bear's head, perhaps Hitomi too could put her finger on how to tour the skies.

Wouldn't it be nice if she could fly through the night skies, uninhibited by her being, only gliding through the circles of the skies – perhaps it would. And she slept, with such precocious musing making rounds and rings around her mind.

But Hitomi found the mornings beautiful too.

* * *

**NEXT CHAPTER  
****Chapter VB Part 2  
**

**Héroïque Hitomi**

"Do you treasure this world? Do you consider stability and order more important than desire?"

* * *

**A/N: **Seems like I've jumped the gun a bit with the previous preview. Writing all these bits part by part makes me realise how much ground, and how damn long, these chapters usually are. Still, this chapter is probably one of the longest of this fic. With what I have now, there're roughly 8 parts in total, and they're all rather different from each other, in the same way Chapter I consisted of parts that were drastically different on their own, but converged under a common progression and theme. The first, which came before this, was the "evening" part. This is the "night" part, and following this is the "morning" and first-Kyousuke part. As you can probably tell, it's a Hitomi-centric chapter and the theme of Chapter VB is 'beauty'. There's still a Chapter VC, so you'll have to connect the dots yourself to speculate the overarching theme of Chapter V. You can try to see the themes of previous chapters to get a feel of where this fic will be going.


	11. VB: Héroïque Hitomi (Part 3)

Didn't she remember? Of course, she did. She must have, so she told herself, remembered that one day – one of far too many – perhaps in the ninth month, August, in mid-summer, when it was a clear morning after it had rained all night, when it was cloudy to the point where even the slightest hint of constellations was nowhere found.

"It's morning!" her tabby cat chirped, whapping its cushy paws on her cheeks in an attempt, all too futile – it well knew, to wake its master at the crack of dawn. Still, however tedious the task proved and despite an astonishing lack of results, it had little choice but to carry on with this daily routine, out of the sheer goodwill and pious sense that made up its inborn character. But however much he tried, scrambling on his master's body, pawing at her face, and on occasion, crawling into her nightgown and tumbling about like Mt. Fuji had just erupted, all that he could elicit from his master, one so unconsciously well-versed in the art of deep sleep that she could well earn a doctorate on it, was a gentle brushing off by the hand and an occasional light rap on the head. Annoyed, our young hero bravely insisted on his efforts by planting his majestic, opulent belly squat across Hitomi-ojou-chan's face, and proceeded to relax there on his newly-conquered heated cushion, curling up to take a much-needed and well-deserved break from the Sisyphean struggle that was trying to wake Hitomi-ojou-chan.

"Mmm…"

And with that one groan, she unceremoniously swatted away the tabby with a deft jerk of her right arm, wholly discomfited by the sensation of near-asphyxiation, slinging it away hard onto the carpet floor.

The kitty shot her a haughty leer, cursing under its breath, "Nyaa." But having fulfilled his morning directives, he proceeded to stalk back up onto Hitomi's lap where it once more made itself at home, to snooze just a little more with the little princess – how her straight locks of flowing seaweed hair made for such a soft, cool bed, as it lay sprawled all over, in disarray, and – how with the first rays of the sunshine, she seemed so much like a goddess, albeit messy, frozen in time.

Would it be right to call her a goddess? I wonder.

Because – happiness!

Did she know what happiness was?

In those days, she knew what it meant to be happy – and perhaps, by some (fallacious) intuitive extension, to be herself.

Awakening slowly to the morning sun creeping in through her floral-patterned curtains, she rubbed her sleepy eyes with the back of her palms while she lay on her bed, staring blankly at the ceiling. Then, she opened the bed-side windows to let some cool autumn air, or rather, the sound of the morning, in. And what did the morning sound like? The clinking of bicycles, maybe; the chatter of children – still carefree; and the chirping of swallows, engaged in swallow-conversation. Perhaps that was what it sounded like. But having only just woken up, Hitomi-ojou-chan could not have taken such a diverse soundscape in and process those mundane morning sounds.

Did she, then, know what happiness was?

* * *

"_It's bright May sunshine," _Madoka once said.

* * *

And May sunshine, she felt, was long-lived enough to stretch into the nether parts of August.

As was her daily ritual, she rose to sit upright on her mattress, green hair flowing messily down her sleeves like streaks of long rain travelling across window panes, and bent sideways for the handle of her mini-fridge, conveniently placed beside her bed. Fumbling somewhat, she managed to open the door and retrieve a silver bottle of Ramune from within. Lethargically shaking it once or twice, she uncapped the bottle and was greeted with a satisfying wake-up hiss. Then, bringing it slowly up to her lips, she gingerly downed the whole bottle of grape soda, relishing the chill of the glass bottle on her already-chilly hand, while with her free hand, she brushed her tabby, so comfortably positioned on her lap.

* * *

"_It is the warmth of family."_

* * *

And there is more than enough of such warmth to go around. Or did she think it was subject to the tragedy of the commons? Her family, though, was far from common, normal, plebeian garden fare. Hence, she was safe, so she thought.

Tinkle, tinkle, the glass marble inside the bottle went. Tinkle, tinkle, it went while she drank. And didn't she remember, when she was younger – yes, even younger than she was – she had a habit of discreetly sneaking out bottles of the good stuff, away from her parents' sight. Didn't she remember? The rush of adrenaline that coursed through her bloodstream the very first time she partook in such disreputable mischief, when she still feared that she was about to dishonour her family, bring shame to her hundreds and hundreds of ancestors.

Was it in an outdoors park? Behind a small shed, mid-noon, clearly in view of the public but with no one familiar watching excepting a small black lizard sauntering about on the pavement, in a garden filled with all kinds of flowers, from red spider lilies, violets, chrysanthemums. She had sneaked out a silver bottle of Ramune, inconspicuously hidden along the back strap of her bra all along.

Was she planning to drink it? Hardly; all along, she left it unopened. Drawing her silver bottle heroically from behind her like some shounen manga protagonist unsheathing his blade, she imagined herself to be a knight-in-shining-armour on some quest to save a little sleeping prince – the one stuck on the tower in the moon, sleeping, with the rose, and one sort or other. But her hands began to tremble slightly, as beads of cold sweat trickled down her forehead, and her lips pursed, then puckered in nervous anticipation. She gripped the neck of that silver bottle so tightly that her fingers were close to turning a ghastly pale.

Then, "smash!" said the bottle.

And its silver shards of silver glass, and the whole volume of clear liquid, flew everywhere around – how the myriad unstrung gems were scattered everywhere around. Sprinkled all over the garden and the flowers, the glass shards and clear dew reflected the light of the overhead sun everywhere around. In that silver garden, she bent down and pocketed from the ground the small glass marble that had been liberated from the confines of the silver glass.

Was it that she intended to play with them or make a collection of them like so many of her young peers, some of whom chocked little plastic boxes full of those little sugary mementos? No, it was not much fun for her, she realised. What good was a glass marble to her? She could find little use for it, and her imagination did not deign to thinking up trifling games to do with such a trinket. What she enjoyed was the sound of it tinkling in the bottle. Tinkle, tinkle, it went.

Perhaps it was because the marble was – trapped. Confined? Voluntarily or involuntarily, regardless of the marble's feelings, she wanted to 'rescue' it. Or maybe, she simply wanted to hold it in her hands because it was always out of reach, like some forbidden fruit that could not be touched without infracting the command of God in the tale of Adam.

Was that happiness? A form of it, maybe.

And did she know what happiness was?

* * *

"_It's fried eggs for breakfast," _Madoka once said. Silly Madoka.

* * *

But that was a memory from long long away, far far ago.

She gazed at the silver bottle in her hand, almost knowingly, or maybe fondly, and threw it up a couple times, feeling the weight every time she caught it, hearing the marble tinkle, tinkle, tinkle – the bottle unbroken, undisturbed. And with that, she let the tabby down on the carpet, deposited the empty bottle into the nearby rubbish bin silently, save for a customary tinkle, tinkle, and slowly got up off the bed to prepare for school.

A quick shower, some breakfast, followed by a little grooming, courtesy of her mother. One brush, two brushes, three brushes – and her hair was done, prim and proper. As far as she could remember back then, her hair was always straight, and not in need of too much attention.

Her bag, packed the day before, slung over a rack by the door. All ready, she went about greeting, "I'm heading off," to all in the household, even her father, still lying in bed, the prime image of morning lethargy, scratching his exposed belly every so often.

"Stay safe," her cat mewed out by the doorstep.  
"You too," replied the little goddess, smiling. One day, she thought, they'd have to give him a personalised name. But, no matter, no matter.

Thus beginning her morning commute to school, she would first have to pass through the family's exquisite silver-gated topiary garden. So neatly arranged and spacious a lot, as a child she would often stop to, literally, smell the roses and admire whatever hidden corners she could chance upon within the maze. From time to time, when she was free to do so, dear Hitomi-ojou-chan would venture alone into the labyrinth, and admire how the shrubbery walls towered over her so. Once, she relayed her fascination of the unfathomable layout and the myriad flowers that were strewn everywhere about on the branches of creeping tendrils and strong upright stems, as if it were all conjured by magic. Giggling slightly, her mother patted her hair gently and said, "You should be discreet. If the existence of magic isn't kept secret, it could very well disappear."

So, she kept the sentiment of miracles and magic privately in her heart, like some seed firmly planted in the ground, waiting for its moment to puncture into the air and blossom in all its beauty – an act of love.

Maybe that was what happiness was.

* * *

_"It's having your name called by someone."_

* * *

But, Hitomi supposed, what if it was really the opposite? Could she find happiness in acts of silence?

Illuminated by the crimson sun, flagging slightly behind the clouds as it began its slow ascent, the dew that was still dripping from the chrysanthemums in the garden. On the bamboo fences and crisscross hedges she strolled past, she sometimes saw tatters of spider-webs; and where the threads broke, glistening raindrops hung on them like strings of white pearls.

At that sight, for some reason, she was greatly moved and delighted – by nature's beauty? And didn't she remember? Whenever it became sunnier after the rain, the dew would gradually vanish from the clovers and the other plants where it had lain so heavily; the branches would begin to stir, then suddenly spring up of their own accord, alive. Once, she tried to express to her family and friends how beautiful it all was. It most impressed her: that they were not at all impressed.

That was what she found beautiful – the mornings.

But that was then, and this was now.

Tock. Tock. Tock.

Monotonously, like the abbot's clanging of the meditation bell every hour high above in the local Buddhist temple, the sōzu standing by a corner of her penthouse suite tipped over, bamboo hitting the rock, water from within it pouring out into the basin.

Gradually, morning came.

Leaves change. Flowers bloom. Birds sing. Bright May sunshine, only lasts throughout May.

She lay sprawled all over her large bed, nightgown slightly crumpled, blanket strewn down below on the soft carpet floor, staring at the gold silken canopy hanging overhead her. Wavy tresses of seaweed-green hair floated about the white canvas of mattress. The biting orange of dawn shot through her whole room, windowed from all angles, such that nary a dark shadow could be seen.

"Ah. Too bright," she winced, as the pure sunbeams burned straight into her eyes, through the clear morning skies. Looking in the far-out, Hitomi could see all the city blanketed beneath a velvet dark shadow as the sun began to rise. From where she was, it was always darkest at the break of dawn. Placing an arm over her eyes to block off the sun, she heaved a small sigh at the thought of having to get up from the comforting clutches of her bed to start the day. Not yet, she fancied. A juvenile part of her wished that the day wouldn't start just yet. What was she waiting for?

But time stops for no man.

After a few minutes of lethargy, she willed herself off the soft mattress and, in her bedroom slippers, shuffled off towards the edges of her suite. Windows lined the walls in Hitomi's suite; well to be precise, the walls were effectively glass-panel windows. Hitomi could see, and could almost feel the biting autumn breeze smother the buildings and installations beyond the barrier, while only a few skyscrapers just about grazed the surface of clouds high above with their pointed tips, swords towards the heavens, like some heavenly altar for the gods or shining castles in the sky.

Barely an inch of glass stood between her and the outside world. But that small distance was such that it looked to be very faraway, very far removed from the scene within. The longer she stared outside, the more she thought she was staring at an eternal dreamscape. That further exacerbated her uneasy restlessness, as she felt some deep-seated ancient urge rise from within her like bile caught in her throat. It was as though something within her was aching to escape through the glass ceiling of her heart from the confinement of undiluted, uncommunicated thought and ideals. What was it?

Suddenly, she wished the glass would simply disappear. When she took a good look down below the wuthering heights, a wave of feverish excitement and primal fear washed through her mind. Just one more step, and – what was she waiting for?

Then, she felt it. The bitter cold crept all the way from her toes into her bones, as she felt the spirit drain from her body, her head growing light, lighter, lightermore, and her eyes widened in fear and trembling. Just as she had always found the mornings, the evenings, the seasons – life, just as she had always found life beautiful, cherished that will to live, to be strong, to power within her – didn't she know? She, too, found death beautiful. She did not know it until she stood at the razor's edge of the heavens, like that man from before her who fell from the silver mountain, no, she did not no it at all until then. Gazing right into the sun, she thought she felt it. Somewhere, deep within her, was a Freudian will to death – a death drive.

She wanted to jump. Jump! Up into the unknown.

* * *

"_Everyone here will die!" _Madoka once said.

* * *

Yes, yes, yes. She was, quite right.

* * *

_"That's right, all of us will embark on a journey to a better world!"_

* * *

Wouldn't it be nice? To be free as a bird.

* * *

"_Do you understand just how wonderful that is? Our living bodies are holding us back!"_

* * *

To be a goddess.

Was that what it meant to be happy?

No.

Heart still racing madly, palpitating at a presto, she stumbled backwards and tried to compose herself, hand clenching her icy breast, as the cold sweat on her foreheads trickled down like beads of long rain that fell on a day where the city had a blackout and darkness reigned while she was stranded at the park as a little child, waiting, waiting, waiting. Heavily breathing, almost panting, as if gasping for air, her exhaled breaths turned white and misty in the cold room.

Did she, then, think she knew what happiness was?

It is bright May sunshine.

It is the warmth of family.

It is fried eggs for breakfast.

But there's nothing like that in Heaven, the Kingdom of God.

A goddess had none of that.

Didn't she know? There is a price to pay for everything. Man errs, till he has ceased to strive. Or could it have been the other way round?

Now the cat is gone. One day, when she thought of calling out for it in their big mansion, she realised it had no name. And, though she scoured every room and every corner, overturned almost every piece of furniture looking for it, shouting "Nyaa! Nyaa!" in the faint hope that it would respond, it had simply vanished like an apparition, never to be seen again.

And as for that beauty she so deeply loved – didn't she remember?

Once upon a time, when the nameless cat was still around, when she still a child who hated the Ramune liquid but liked its marble, she was told a bedtime story of a man who tried to gain happiness.

Faust, an eminent scholar, felt that none of his many achievements has provided him with satisfaction or fulfillment. He yearned to gain knowledge of absolute truth, of some sort of categorical imperative, and the meaning of existence. Alas, he turned to magic in the hope of finding a solution and finally struck a deal with the devil. He agreed to sell his soul if the devil could give him one moment of experience which was so rewarding that his sense of alienation disappeared and he called upon that moment to stay as it was forever.

And what became of him then? What became of him then, of his magic and of his miracles?

Did he think himself to be a hero? **Naïve!**

* * *

**CHAPTER VB  
****Héroïque Hitomi**

* * *

**NEXT CHAPTER  
****Chapter VB Part 4  
**

**Héroïque Hitomi**

"Do you treasure this world? Do you consider stability and order more important than desire?"  
"I do."

* * *

**A/N:** Man, this thing keeps on getting longer and longer. On a side note, this whole chapter has parallels and contrasts to every other chapter thus far, since it is serving as the end of the beginning. It's difficult to write this fic, and even more so since I've left it lying around for 2 years.


	12. VB: Héroïque Hitomi (Part 4)

**CHAPTER VB  
Héroïque Hitomi**

* * *

Sunrise shone through the barrier of trees upon trees from the distant mountains that peeked over Mitakihara's horizon. Like a trail of dominos, all the trees – autumn brown, evergreen, even the witching trees of splendid colour – turned dark when they cast their shadows onto one another. Only their tips could be distinctly made out, jutting from a sea of blurry morning darkness. Even then, the light that washed over them bleached their colours a shiny golden hue, morning dew sparkling, shining unwaveringly.

Within a small woodwork grove lined with unblossomed cherry trees, just a stone's throw away from the main road that headed straight towards the school, Hitomi dawdled back and forth through the pathway. Despite being clothed in a sheen of velvet shadow, with the cool and refreshing morn mist sailing right by her, she could feel the searing warmth of the sunbeams beat against her smooth skin, reflected and amplified by the glassworks and floating zeppelins from high above – everyday soaring further.

She was waiting for Kyousuke. That Tuesday morning, strolling around aimlessly, biding her time, as she patiently awaited Kyousuke's arrival. In the beginning, she was positively miffed how Kyousuke lacked the basic courtesy to even arrive earlier than his lady. Clearly ungentlemanly; not that she minded much. If Saotome-sensei were in her shoes, surely she would lash out at Kyousuke for not knowing how to treat a lady proper. Or perhaps Saotome-sensei would simply pout and say nothing, merely giving her partner the cold shoulder and the evil eye? Or maybe she would simply bear with it? What would Saotome-sensei do if she were in Hitomi's shoes? Hitomi pondered on such a train of thought before sighing to herself internally in resignation. It was pointless to entertain such thought experiments. To begin with, Saotome-sensei wasn't a good role model when it came to handling relationships.

The first time around when they were meeting up to head to school together, that being a rarity in itself, Kyousuke simply sauntered up to her, a good 10 minutes late, and apologized, "Ah, sorry, Shizuki-san, you didn't wait long, did you? I was just a little caught up with morning practice."

"Not at all, Kamijou-kun," she politely answered, hands interlocked behind her back, fingers wriggling in excitement, jangling her briefcase behind her. Looking down at the paved floor to hide Kyousuke's gaze from her flushed cheeks, she tapped her feet a couple times in quiet anticipation for their morning stroll, and all manner of her dissatisfaction was thus forgotten.

As those memories came floating to the top of her mind, like so many bubbles of sea foam advancing towards the beach in summer, she wore a gentle smile on her face. At times, when recalling Kyousuke, Hitomi could not help but conjure the gilded image of herself as a young girl in association. And wasn't that what she loved most about him?

His dedication to his music, his drive and passion – the violin meant the most to him. Sometimes, it felt like she was looking through a time machine, disappearing through the smoke-rings of her mind into some long-forgotten future. In a way, Kyousuke was a person whose head was ever up in the clouds. Just like how Hitomi used to be.

And there were times when she'd muse to herself, staring out the windows of the café she and the other girls frequented, down towards the sun-drenched business district, sipping on her hot coffee, ruminating on the way she had come thus far and how much she had changed, gradually over the years, without her noticing. She had always found it quite laughable – she would spend a half-hour each morning in front of the mirror to make herself presentable, but she hardly ever noticed how she had changed. It almost felt natural to her. Her eyelids had slanted down by the sides to form a kindly shape, when all along in her childhood she had been wide-eyed. Her hair, too, suddenly – it was always straight, until one fine day she noticed that it had gone curly.

Back then, she was just like Kyousuke, without a shadow of a doubt. Where then did she change? She didn't remember. She didn't know. Not at all. The seriousness that she had towards play – that maturity, where did it go? Looking down upon the crowd making their way, flitting to and fro, as the clouds languidly streamed by, casting light shadows everywhere about, she wondered just why she hadn't become like Kyousuke. Maybe it was because she never had felt that fire warming the cockles of her deep heart, a fervent blaze like a shooting star that would, out of the blue, inspire her with a zest for life. Then again, maybe it was nothing too spectacular. The years had passed her by, and she had given up on travelling a journey she did not know she always wanted to take.

Thinking that, she heaved a quiet sigh of resignation and cocked her head up to the heavens, feet still moving left and right and left and right. She watched the clouds float by, every minute getting brighter, to the point where she would have to squint at the harsh golden glare. And not long after, strolling round and round, she felt the cold autumn breeze picking up, rustling the leaves of trees ever so slightly, forming a low orchestral hum. Cold, she removed a thick, grey hand-made muffler from her bag and coiled it several times around her neck. Nuzzling her nose and mouth down into the scarf, she took a whiff of its homely scent and basked in the warmth for a few cherished seconds, silent but for the clopping of deer hooves in the nearby.

Occasionally, she would grow irritated at the very thing she admired in Kyousuke. Wouldn't it be good if he could direct just a mote of that drive and passion he had for music towards her for once? Or so she would sometimes complain to herself. Just recently, when she had invited Kyousuke out for dinner on Saturday, he replied that he was busy with a recital that day. Crossed at his inattentiveness to her needs, she decided to up and attend the concert, dragging Sayaka along with her. And owing to the ineffable power of disposable income, they managed to purchase front row tickets, granting Hitomi the pleasure of being able to bore holes into his head up-close. If she couldn't get to spend some free time with her boyfriend, the least she could do was graciously barge into his schedule.

Didn't she remember? As she gazed at the zeppelins gliding by on a pillow of clouds, all golden, without a trace of their original colour, she shut her eyelids and took a deep breath in. The first time she met him was in the far-off flower garden, right by the sleek belltower reaching high towards the heavens, towering atop a hill that overlooked the city from all vantage points.

Idle, she wandered to the very top of the flowering peak at sundown, alone, with only her briefcase held by her front. By the corner of her ear, she thought she heard a reed being blown intermittently in broken snatches, falling lullingly onto her keen ears. Curious, she trailed towards the source of that sweet sound which seemed to emanate from every corner, in the shrubs and the flowers, by the pathway to the high-up skies. Slightly dashing, her pace light and lively, she traversed the convoluted maze of shrubs and flowers with a strange determination in her heart. What was she hoping to find? She didn't know. The deeper the feeling, the harder it is for it to show up in the surface.

Guided by this inspirational rush, this fervour, she turned left and right and left and right – all till she realised she had lost all her bearings and had gone no closer to the music. At dusk, when the receding sun selfishly obscures the starscape, reluctant to relinquish its hold over mankind and rest for the night, Hitomi could not distinguish north from south, east to west. No landmarks, as far as the eye could see. All she saw was a vast, endless Gulistan – a maze of a rose garden stretching everywhere. So fresh, so bright, the crimson daylight blazing, all adazzle. Though she realised then that she was horribly lost in that kaleidoscopic sunset garden, did she feel scared and abandoned, even just a bit? Not at all.

Did she feel lonely and alone, even just a bit? Yes. Of course, she did. Look around! The sunlight in the emptiness! And white clouds, or were they white cranes, flying. At that moment, a burst of profound emptiness rose through the depths of her heart. Grimacing elegantly, she gradually halted and surveyed the magical piece of paradise she had been trapped in.

There was no end to it all.

If she ran far, far ahead, trampling the shrubs and roses beneath her, would she have escaped? If she traced the walls and methodically find her way back, would she have been successful? But she did neither.

Unbeknownst to her, she began to entertain the thought of smiling faintly. Because, she thought she had seen such a scene before in a dream of suspended animation. Because, she felt free! So free, she could not tell if she were dead or alive in that funny garden where everything is hues of orange, gold, and red. What if she could not find her way out? What if she could not get back home?

What if she never got to see her family again? What if her cat one day stumbled back home, only to find no one to welcome?

What if everything was gone – and she ended up like the girl who leapt through time?

Then there would be nothing left for her. No home, no warmth, no comfort, no shelter. Thinking that, she felt like a lonely castaway stranded in the middle of the ocean.

But what would that matter? What would that matter at all…

Perhaps she could learn to make do, to live and let live there.

Accepting chance and change, she could hide away by a little grotto next to a spring; perched there on a bed of roses, just watching the clouds so bright, the birds making their flight, she could be satisfied. So dreamy – didn't it scare to think that she could live in an eternal dream? Few, if any, would wander into the secret garden, secluded by the treacherously enchanting maze atop the hill, but white clouds would occasionally touch and pass away. Soft grass for a pillow, blue skies for a blanket – happy, alive. Was that what she always wanted? Wasn't that what she always wanted?

But with her handkerchief, she dried her eyes, and she ambled on aimlessly, taking in the sights. No longer was she chasing after those ethereal tones from beyond the boundary, and nor was she seeking to find a way out of the maze. On the contrary, a part of her wished that it truly would carry on forever.

And when, refreshed, she made it out, after what seemed like a few hours but had only been a few minutes, she passed Kyousuke by without so much as a second glance. That was how they met. Only when they were enrolled in the same class at Mitakihara Middle School did she take notice of him.

Then, they were strangers. But now – now what? Feeling the cold creep into her bones, Hitomi gave off a small, high-pitched sneeze and began shivering slightly.

* * *

**NEXT CHAPTER  
****Chapter VB Part 5  
**

**Héroïque Hitomi**

"Do you treasure this world? Do you consider stability and order more important than desire?"  
"I do. But desire and order..."

* * *

**A/N: **7 more parts or so to go.


End file.
